Altair
by Amerath's Destiny
Summary: The Altair Club knew of the darkness that was to soon overwhelm the world of swords and kings. They were seeking out warriors that were bright enough to drive it back. A medieval story.
1. Chapter 1

Good morning, class. My name is Ms. Blaisdale. Welcome to remedial history. I know, you're all ecstatic to be here on this fine summer's day. I'm sure you'd rather be out swimming with your friends, or having a barbeque, or catching a new pokemon. But, since you failed history, you're stuck here with me.

There is…No excuse for failing this class. First of all, it's required for your graduation. Why would you flunk a class that you need to graduate? You could have all passed if you had paid attention and turned in your work. Don't you want to go out into the world and be someone? A pokemon trainer? A breeder? A coordinator? A professor? Or a teacher, like me?

No, you could have all passed history easily. The problem was that you chose not to. Why?

Because you think history is boring. But it's not! History is one of the most interesting, fascinating subjects out there. It is the link to who we are today, and determines our actions for tomorrow.

Hey! You in the blue shirt! I see those headphones. Take them off and put them away.

Okay, very funny you two. I can see your mouths moving when you meow like a Meowth or bark like a Herdier. I want you both sitting up here where I can keep an eye on you.

As for _you_, young lady, the rest of the class may find it funny when you're making faces at me, but I don't. I'm the one you want to impress if you want to pass this class, not your little clique.

All right, all right. I can't help it. I'm a history professor! It's in my nature to be passionate about history.

Let's try to make this more interesting. I have a book here that delves into the personal lives of the people living in the time period we're studying. You are going to go home every night and read a chapter.

Why? Because I said so, that's why.

Try to imagine yourself in the shoes of these people. What would it have felt like to fight in the wars between the regions? Or to face off against a truly feral pokemon? Or to be a young man or woman joining the Altair Club? Or to be one of its _founders_?

Your blank expressions indicate that you have no idea what the Altair Club is. Let me explain the history behind it.

The year was 1232, the age of knights and lords and kingdoms. The "feudal system" was in place, meaning lords served the king of each region, and lesser lords those lords, and knights those lords, and peasants those knights. Wars were constantly being fought between the regions: for land, for money, for power.

Wake up! And you, stop yawning! If you slept through all your classes, no wonder you failed.

Well, if you're bored, let's skip to the part that will interest you: Pokemon and training. Ah, there goes the light in your eyes.

These days, pokemon are mostly non-aggressive unless we order them to battle. Even the wild pokemon are fairly friendly and tamable. Deaths from anything other than old age are rare among our treasured friends.

Not so in 1232. Pokemon were fierce and belligerent, attacking anyone who wandered into the wild grass. Wars were fought between pokemon and people as often as between the regions. There were no pokeballs, so pokemon could no be caught and forced to obey you. No, only by proving themselves, with a blade or another pokemon companion, were warriors able to convince non-domesticated pokemon to join them.

Pokemon and people died easily, from sickness or war. Pokemon, especially so. When fighting each other, pokemon never killed, only fought until one or the other fainted. Humans, however, were much more vicious, and would often kill enemy warriors' pokemon companions.

Yes, you, in the green hat! You want to hear about the warriors and their pokemon? Well, they are much like a modern day pokemon trainer, except without the pokeballs. The thing bonding a pokemon and warrior was their trust and loyalty, not the threat of being stuffed back into a ball.

Warriors, of course, still fought with swords and other weapons. But pokemon battles were fought just as often on the battlefields as true battles.

Of course, there was one difference: All warriors were men. And all were nobility or served the nobility closely. Women and the lower class were forbidden from training pokemon. Oh, they still had pokemon. Lady's pets, pokemon on the farm and all. But if they evolved into something powerful, or were found training them? Taken away for the service of the local lord.

Sad, isn't it? So much potential lost, for so many hundreds of years…

That was, until the formation of the Altair Club. Now we get into the _really_ interesting stuff.

The Altair Club was a group of men, lords and nobles and knights, who found a reason to train women and the lower class. Some did it willingly and happily, because it was what they believed. Some did it because they believed it necessary.

The Altair Club watched groups of women and lower-class men, looking for those that would be interested in the first round of training, taking note of their abilities, histories, personalities. When the time was right, they sent them a letter, inviting them to join. It would be dangerous, they said. And very, _very_ illegal. But it would give these young men and women a chance to fight for what they believed in.

The Altair Club was disguised as an etiquette class for unruly young ladies and commoners who wanted to be in closer service to their lords. So families happily sent their children off, hoping they would come back as well-mannered young adults, knowing nothing of the crimes they were about to commit.

Yes, you, in the back row! Why was the Altair club formed? I suppose it's a good question. Why would these young lords, with all the money and power in the world, want to create rivals? Why would they risk their good reputations for this?

I can't tell you that. Have to leave you some incentive to read the book. However, I'll give you a hint. The Altair Club knew of the darkness that was to soon overwhelm the world of swords and kings. They were seeking out warriors that were bright enough to drive it back.

* * *

**A/N:** Altair - The brightest star in the constellation Aquila, the eagle, and the twelfth brightest star that can be seen from Earth.

Ugh, I can't believe I'm starting another multi-chapter story. I must be crazy. But I need the experience with medieval-style stories if the book I'm writing is going to be any good...By the way, if anyone has any suggestions on how to write with a more archaic style, let me know. I'm no good at that...

Anyways, this is Altair, my new story! This is also a SYOC story, so send them in! I probably won't tell you who gets in...because I won't know until I start writing. Ehehehehe...

Please keep in mind that this is set in Europeon medieval-style times, so make characters accordingly. By the way, write a lot! Make me love your character! If I like them I'll use them! Uh, obviously.

Please submit as much as you can through review, or, if you prefer, the "Altair" thread on the "The OC Submission Station" forum. We have a relations section, and we want everyone else to want to be friends/lovers/enemies with your lovely char! If it's not enough, send the second half through PM to me. Only on OC per person!

Name: First, Last. Nobles have well-known family names.

Gender: Male or female? Only men can be Masters, but both men and women can be Trainees.

Age: How old are they? No characters under thirteen. Masters will probably be at least sixteen.

Rank: Both in the Altair Club and in the real world. In the Altair, it's either Master or Trainee. Masters are all male, and all noble, royal, or knights. Trainees are both male and female. In the real world, are they a lord or lady? A prince or princess? Or a peasant working on a farm? It's up to you. Women are not going to be ruling any cities. Their fathers, husbands, brothers, and sons will. This is a sexist, classist world they're living in.

Hometown: Where do they live? One noble family to a city, and one royal family per region. The royal family also rules the city they live in.

Weapon of Choice: Yes! Your character gets an actual weapon! A sword? A spear? A bow and arrow? Daggers? If you want to name your weapon, feel free! Your character will receive training with other weapons, but this will be their go-to. If you really want to, your characters go-to can be healing as well.

Relations: Does your character have any family? Do they WANT any family? Friends? Rivals? Lovers? Enemies? What about relationships between pokemon? If you don't want something, just say so. Feel free to scroll through the reviews and pick out other people's character, though. If there are any restrictions to relations, like if your character's sexist and doesn't want to be friends with girls or if their homosexual and can only be paired with the same gender, put it here as well. Again, I would LOVE it if you would look through other reviews for possible friends and relations.

Personality: What does your character act like? Mean? Nice? Shy? Loud? For ladies, we don't need all tomboyish girls. It's not a crime to create someone ladylike. Because I have a feeling this fic will be a breeding ground for Mary/Gary Sues, make sure you clearly state at least one or two flaws. Explicitly, please, I'm a little dense. Also, if you're at all interested in a romance for your characters, please state how they'd act around someone they're interested in/have a crush on/are in love with/are in a relationship with. Let's face it, we all act a little different when we're bitten by the love bug. How do they act around a romantic interest? Do they hide it? Do they blush and stutter? Do they come right out an profess their love? Be creative!

Appearance: What does your character look like: Eye color? Hair color? Hair length? Skin tone? Height? Weight? Face and body shape? Also to be included are two sets of clothes: One for every day wear, likes what they would wear on the farm or in their castles. Ladies, don't flash your ankles in any of your outfits! Or I'll have them thrown out of their castles, called whores wherever they went, and they'll eventually die alone and miserable. This is medieval Europe. Sort of...Also include training clothes, something easier to move in for work. Men's clothes are more appropriate here.

History: Why is your character the way they are? What happened to them in the past? Why Altair wants them and why they decided to join Altair should be included here.

Pokemon: For Masters, just follow the template of the last form for all six of your pokemon. For Trainees, you must fill out the first two forms specifically, then have four of the last form. PLEASE GIVE ME FULLY EVOLVED POKEMON. I'll de-evolve them to suit my needs.

Nickname (not required) - Species - Gender - Ability

Move - Move - Move - Move

Personality/History. This is the first pokemon, the one they brought with them to Altair. Often, this means weak pokemon that are kept as pets. Lots of cute pokemon, lots of Normal types! They'll be at their first evolution when they arrive at Altair, but can evolve later if wanted. No Eevees for the first pokemon! Pokemon that are pets or that help out with a job are fine, but they will be first evolution. No powerful types like Dragon!

Nickname (not required) - Species - Gender - Ability

Move - Move - Move - Move

Personality/History. The second pokemon is a pokemon specifically given to your character by the Altair Club for some reason or other. Perhaps they have some common link in their personality or history. Either way, this pokemon will help the character grow on the journey. This pokemon will also be first evolution when received, but can evolve later.

Nickname (not required) - Species - Gender - Ability

Move - Move - Move - Move

Personality/History. Here pokemon go free-range, no restrictions, besides no legendaries and no pokemon that would need technology to be alive (Unfortunately, that means no Porygon or Klink). Fossil pokemon are all right, I'm taking care of it in-story, as are pokemon like Clefairy. Shinies are okay, if you have a good reason that you have them. No more than one shiny per person. x4

Legendary Pokemon: A thing I'm doing to help me decide who's going in the story. (Weird, huh?) Take all the legendary pokemon from your character's region, and organize them into some sort of order. (Like, if you have a character from Johto, use Generation II pokemon, being the legendary dogs/beasts, the tower duo, and Celebi.)

~x~

Here's an example with my character. Please keep in mind that this is EXTREMELY abbreviated, and yours should be longer.

Name: (Lady) Anya Riveras

Gender: Female

Age: 20

Rank: Altair Trainee/Lady of the Rivers family.

Hometown: Her family rules Nimbasa.

WoC: Sword. Super creative, I know.

Relations: Her parents are Lord and Lady of Nimbasa. She also has a brother named Jacob. Open to all friendships. Anya herself isn't interested in a romantic relationship, but the author isn't giving her a choice, so that's open too!

Personality: This is where I start really abbreviating. Don't use one-sentence phrases like I am. EXPLAIN. Sassy. Bossy. Smart-mouthed. Swears a lot. A little boyish for a lady. Friendly. Clever. Sneaky. Likes to play tricks. Has a grudge against her brother. Doesn't like water (can't swim). Hates that no one takes her seriously. Loyal. Brave. Flamboyant. Dramatic. When in love tries to act a little more ladylike and mostly fails at it. Is also much more self-concious.

Appearance: Abbreviating. Black, wavy hair, falls to mid-back. Orange eyes. Short, 5'3". Lean, not very curvy. Pretty much super adorable. Could pass for a kid. She's "cute" and "adorable", but never called "beautiful" or "lovely". Wears a long green dress with a red ribbon for lady time and brown breeches, a white shirt, a green tunic, and a dark green cap for training.

History: You'll find out!

Pokemon: I'll do ONE for you. The rest are a secret.

Pandora - Purrloin/Liepard - Female - Limber

Secret! - Secret! - Secret! - Secret!

History is a secret. Pretty friendly, like Anya, and likes to play tricks, like Anya. Wary of strangers because of her history.

Legendary pokemon: Zekrom, Meloetta, Victini, Reshiram, Kyurem, Thundrus, Virizion, Keldeo, Cobalion, Tornadus, Landorus, Terrakion

I look forward to reading all of your apps!

~Ami


	2. Chapter 2

"My lord, I must apologize." In Anya's mind, Vincent collapsed to his knees and bowed deeply, his blond hair brushing the ground.

Her lord father Andrew would frown. "Whatever for?" He would ask her caretaker.

"I…I seem to have lost your children. Again." In some ways, Anya couldn't help but feel sorry for Vincent.

Not enough to stop these little escapades, of course.

"Wait for me, big brother!" The ten-year old called, kicking her feet into the Ponyta's sides.

Jacob turned his Rapidash and smiled at his younger sister. "One of these days, we should teach you to ride a full-grown Rapidash. Otherwise, you'll be trotting along in my footsteps for the rest of your life!"

Even at her tender young age, Anya knew that her brother was a sight to behold, the spitting image of Lord Andrew. His hair, black as night like her own, was brushed and oiled into a tail that fell over his left shoulder. His eyes were a golden-amber, like their father's, while Anya's were the color of flame. His skin had the slightly darker, healthy olive tone, while Anya was a bit fairer, like her mother. And, even at fourteen, he was strong, as well as an accomplished swordsman and archer. No wonder the young ladies of visiting families were constantly swooning over him.

Or perhaps it was because he smelled nice. Anya loved it when her brother picked her up and held her, because she could secretly bury her nose into his shoulder and get a good whiff. Maybe the scent was a little feminine, but Anya adored it. She didn't know of any other man that smelled as nice as her brother, except for perhaps Vincent. She was even a little jealous of it.

Of course, when she had mentioned it to him, he had made a few sharp jabs about the amount of baths she look.

Anya stuck her tongue out at her elder brother. "Agreed. But Father says I have to wait until I'm taller and bigger and stronger," she sighed.

"Who says you'll get taller and bigger and stronger? Maybe you'll be a child all your life."

"Hey!" she cried, but Jacob was already off, laughing like a maniac. Her own Ponyta raced after him.

This was a tradition between Anya and her beloved brother. The two of them had shared of love of riding since the moment Anya had been placed on a Rapidash behind Jacob. It wasn't uncommon for the peasants to see them racing along the dirt paths between their farms, like they were now.

Eventually, Jacob pulled back on the reins of his mount, slowing the powerful Rapidash into a trot, then a walk. "We made it," he called back as he dismounted.

"Then where are they?" Anya demanded.

Jacob said nothing. He only pointed out over the water.

The siblings had arrived at the straight that separated the areas of Nimbasa and Driftveil. Anya had heard a rumor that her father wanted to build a bridge across the river, so the two allies could visit each other more often. However, such an undertaking was sure to take several years, if not decades. So, until then, a dock had been built further north of their position. Anya could see the brightly colored sails of the boats as she and her brother picked their way down the slope.

"Sh! There they are!" Jacob dragged Anya down, and the two crawled forward into the shrubbery. Her lady mother would be sure to scold Anya for dirtying her dress later, but the ten-year-old hardly cared. Carefully, she pulled down the branches covering her view, and gasped at the sight in front of her. "Sweet Zekrom's wings…"

Tens, if not hundreds, of strange, serpentine pokemon basked in the water of the straight and on the banks, not twenty feet from where Anya and Jacob were crouched. The largest ones were nearly fifteen feet long, with blue orbs on the ends of their tails and a single, white horn on the tops of their heads. The smaller ones had no orbs, yet still retained the horn.

"The Dratini and Dragonair migration," Jacob murmured. "They're extremely rare, here in the kingdom of Unova. But, once a year, almost all of Kanto's Dragonair take their young and come here. Why? I have no idea. But they are quite beautiful, aren't they?"

"Where are their final forms?" Anya furrowed her brow as she tried to remember the pokemon's name. "The…Dragon-mights?"

"Dragon_ite_, sister dear," Jacob corrected her. "They're even more rare. Most live out on deserted islands in the sea. They say that, in olden times, Dragonite used to be benevolent, kind pokemon, who would save shipwrecked sailors. Not anymore, though. They're incredibly powerful, and do not have any love for humans. A Dragonite supposedly killed our uncle, remember?"

"With one swing of its mighty tail," Anya finished the rest of the tale, commonly told by their lady mother.

"In any case, I never would have brought you here if I thought there was a - What is _that_? That has got to be the _ugliest_ pokemon I have ever seen."

The pokemon in question was, in fact, a Skitty. Chunks of its fur had been torn out, and one of its ears was so torn, it was nearly missing altogether. One eye was smaller than the other, and its pupils were crossed. As it limped up to them, they could see that there were only two yellow balls sprouting from the tip of its tail, instead of three.

"Naa-yaaaaa~" it squealed, batting at a ribbon trailing off Anya's dress.

"Aw, it's so cute!" Anya fawned over the poor creature, hesitantly reaching forward to scratch one of its ears. The Skitty purred, butting his head into the palm of her hand.

"_Cute_? I've never seen anything so misshapen in my _life_!"

Anya picked the pink, feline pokemon up and hugged him to her chest. "Look at how friendly it is! Can I keep it, big brother? I've never had a pet before."

"Anya, we can find a much better pokemon for you. I've heard that the Lord in Castelia has a Stoutland that just had a litter of little Lillipup puppies."

"A litter of little litt - A litter of Lill - A liller of li - Nevermind. But look at it! It's so cute!"

"You know what are really cute? Vulpix. I've heard there's one with golden fur running around the region somewhere."

"Pllllleeeeeeaaaasssssseee?"

Jacob pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger before letting out a long sigh. "If you're going to keep this monstrosity, you can't keep calling the poor bastard 'it' all the time," he said as he picked up the Skitty and flipped it onto its back to check its sex. The poor creature let out a cry and struggled in an attempt to protect its dignity.

"Male," Jacob told Anya as he set the pokemon down. "Don't name him until father says you can keep him. I don't need you getting attached to him if he refuses."

"Too late," Anya grinned, picked up the Skitty and presenting him to her brother. "Jacob, meet Patches."

* * *

Six years later, the day that changed everything arrived.

"Anya, I would see you married. You are sixteen now; more than old enough." Lord Andrew told her over supper.

Anya was far from surprised. After all, she had known her whole life that, one day, she would marry another lord of her father's choosing to bear him children, hopefully all sons. However, she didn't dread it, though she was far from ecstatic. It was merely a fact of her life. She knew her father would find her a good husband, one who could provide for her and who would treat her kindly. And if Lord Andrew did find someone cruel and unkind and ugly, Jacob would never let him take her away.

No, Anya's only surprise was that they had waited so long. Most fathers started searching for a husband for their daughters when they were thirteen or fourteen. Perhaps he had been waiting for Anya to grow, fill out, become more womanly, to attract more suitors. If only his wishes had been granted. At sixteen, she barely stood five feet tall, and lacked the curves that most young women possessed. On top of that, her rounded face and soft features made her look much younger than she truly was; perhaps twelve or thirteen.

"I am honored to serve our family in any way I can, Father," Anya replied, ignoring the Butterfrees fluttering around in her stomach.

Her mother, Lady Josephine, stood from her seat and walked around the table to stand behind her daughter. Unlike the rest of her dark-haired family, Lady Josephine had auburn tresses tumbling down her shoulders. The tall woman towered over little Anya. In fact, the only trait she shared with her daughter was her orange eyes and fair skin.

"I'm proud of you for handling this so well," she murmured, kissing the top of her head gently. "I understand how nervous you must be, but I know you'll be just fine."

Anya smiled. "Thank you, Mother. I-"

That was when the door burst open, revealing a young man with the symbol of House Riveras embroidered onto his breast. He slammed the door behind him, breathing heavily. Anya slapped a hand over her mouth when she saw the blood pouring from a deep shoulder wound.

"My lord Andrew," he gasped. "We're under attack by an army flying the banners of the royal family of Hoenn!"

All the blood rushed from Anya's face. "Patches!" The Skitty had never been allowed at the table during meals, so Anya always locked him in her room.

"Don't worry, Anya!" Jacob sprang to his feet. "I'll get him!"

Before Anya could protest, Jacob was out the door and sprinting down the hallway.

* * *

After what seemed like days, but was truly only hours, Anya, her mother, and the several villagers that had fled to the castle for shelter were finally allowed the leave the Great Hall.

"The battle is won," Lord Andrew told her. The lord himself had not fought, due to an old wound that was paining him, but had gone to find trapped servants and villagers. Anya had found him soothing poor Vincent's frayed nerves. "Unfortunately, this is far from the end. This attack will mean war."

"Father? Why did the Kingdom of Hoenn attack us?"

Andrew shook his head. "Why does any kingdom attack another? Money, power, land, some affront or other…"

"I see," Anya replied, though she didn't understand at all. "Where are Jacob and Patches? Are they all right?"

"I don't know, but Jacob has always been good with a sword, even if he's never seen a battle before today. If he got his hands on one, I'm sure he's fine," her father reassured her. "I don't want you looking for him; it's not safe to go out. Go back to your mother and the other women, I'm sure he'll turn up soon."

"Of course, Father. Will you be accompanying me?"

"No," he replied, gently patting Vincent's quivering shoulder. "I'm going to stay here until Vincent calms down."

Without another word, Anya stood and left. However, instead of turning right, to return to the Great Hall and her mother, Anya turned left, towards her room. If her father though helping Vincent was more important than helping her equally terrified mother, then she would go find Jacob and Patches herself.

It didn't take long. After only a few turns, she saw his figure stumbling down the hall, clutching a sword in one hand. "Jacob! I'm so glad you're all right!"

That was when she saw the blood dripping down his blade. Anya ground her teeth to keep from recoiling. This was her brother! Maybe he had hurt someone, but it was only for her and Patches and the family…

Jacob himself looked terrible. His hair, normally pulled back into a low tail, had come loose, and was falling into his eyes. His clothes, normally immaculate and, of course, at the height of fashion, were covered in sweat and blood stains. "Big brother…?"

Jacob collapsed to the stone floor and retched. "Big brother! What's wrong!"

Slowly, he pushed himself back to lean against the wall, wiping vomit from his mouth. Her brother, her big, strong, brave brother, wrapped his arms around himself, buried his face into his knees, and cried.

"I'm sorry, Anya," he gasped between sobs. "I tried, but…Arceus, there were so many! And they just kept fighting and fighting and then…"

But…Patches? Patches couldn't be dead! Numb, Anya slowly sunk to the floor.

"Naaaaa-yaaaaaaa~" called a voice down the corridor. A not-so-familiar form trotted up, butting his head against Anya's arm.

"Patches?" But it wasn't, or at least not the same Patches that she had seen just earlier that day. The bald spots, the misshapen eyes and crossed pupils, all that was still there. But…hadn't Patches been smaller? And she distinctly remembered his ears being pink, not purple.

"He changed form…" she murmured. "From a Skitty to a Delcatty. I don't…understand."

"There was a warrior. He and I were fighting, and his Nidorino charged me," Jacob rasped. "Patches jumped in the way and saved my life. And the other warrior…he knew he was going to lose against the two of us. He had an item…A Moonstone, I think it's called, that makes Nidorino change form to Nidoking. He was going to use it so his pokemon would be powerful enough to win. But…Patches jumped in and snatched it from him and…I'm sorry, Anya. You know it's illegal for women to own a pokemon in its stronger form. Patches can't be your pet anymore."

* * *

With a shuddering sigh, Anya released her brother. "Be careful, will you?"

Despite the grin he gave her, Anya could see the shadow in her brother's eyes; the same shadow that had appeared the day the Kingdom of Hoenn had attacked. "Don't talk like I'm marching to my grave. I've got Patches to protect me, remember?"

The Delcatty had been given to Jacob after he had evolved, since he could not technically belong to Anya anymore. Jacob had never had a pokemon before, or at least not a true battle partner, since the long peace that the Kingdom of Unova had enjoyed did not require him to train. Now, the Riveras family was forced to improvise when it came to Patches - In more than one way.

"Patches hasn't been in any real fights, besides the battle last month. Please be careful with him," she reminded her brother before crouching down in front of the Normal type pokemon. She gently stroked his tattered ear. "You take care too, Patches," she told the Delcatty before leaning forward to kiss the top of his head. Patches leaned forward, butting his head gently against her nose.

"We'll take care of each other," Jacob promised. "Or, at the very least, I promise to protect Patches."

Then, Jacob turned to their parents. "There is one other thing…"

"Ask, and it is yours," Andrew replied immediately. He was not going to war due to his old wound.

"I don't want you trying to marry Anya off while I'm gone. I refuse to allow anyone near my sister until I approve."

Anya hid her grin behind her hand. Lord Andrew, eating his own carelessly spoken words.

"Very well."

* * *

The war with Hoenn lasted for two years. Thankfully, Nimbasa was not attacked again. In fact, most of the fighting took place on the ocean, with the occasional battle between Flying type pokemon in the sky, since Unova was so far away from Hoenn.

And what did the two Kingdoms get out of the war? A peace treaty and many, many dead men. No land, no power, no influence.

Anya decided that war was the most ridiculous, pointless, stupid thing she had ever heard of.

* * *

Anya was hemming one of her mother's dresses when her brother returned. It was not a task she relished, nor one that she was particularly good at. However, her work was passable, and the job needed to be done. Lady Josephine was pregnant for the second time since Anya had been born, and the entire castle was in a tizzy; trying to create a comfortable and stress-free environment for the lady. This was likely the last time she would be pregnant; Lady Josephine could not afford to lose this child, like she had the last one.

Though, Anya did wonder how her mother how her mother had become pregnant. Of course, she understood the _concept_ behind it - Her elder brother had explained it to her when she was eleven years old, much to her parent's fury, Jacob's amusement, and her own embarrassment. No, if her mother was pregnant, that meant that either her parents still shared a bed from time to time - which Anya doubted - or her mother had a lover and was much of an adulterer as her husband.

Anya was ripped out of her thoughts by the sound of hooves racing into the courtyard. Her brother had returned! Dropping the dress without any care for wrinkles and creases, the eighteen-year-old rushed outside to greet the brother she had not seen for two years.

At first, it seemed that his time at war had not changed Jacob at all. He was still as handsome and perfect as ever, resplendent in his armor, polished to be silver-bright. She was sure he would still smell lovely, but she wouldn't know until he swept her up in his arms laughing.

A new host of pokemon followed him, one of which was a great Salamance, which landed as Anya entered the court. Another was a Weavile, which had settled itself on the back of a Rapidash's haunches. One, two, three, four, five, six…And Patches was not among them. Where was Patches? She glanced up at her brother, about to ask.

"Get this filth out of my sight," he said, not even looking at her as he tossed the pokemon, which he had been holding by the scruff of his neck, into Anya's waiting arms.

Filth? Patches wasn't filth! He was her pet! Of course, he was Jacob's partner now, but Patches would always be hers in spirit. And why would he treat the poor pokemon so roughly?

Of course! It was a joke. Her brother would never treat Patches or Anya herself like that. She glanced up at his retreating form, opening her mouth to fire a sharp retort back at him.

That was when she realized Patches hadn't greeted her yet which his cheerful mew. In fact, he hadn't moved in her arms at all. Gently, she stroked his long-cold fur, sinking to her knees.

Patches couldn't be…He wasn't…

But the pokemon remained cold and unresponsive in her arms. Numb, Anya continued to stroke the pokemon along his back and sides, hoping against hope that he would spring back to life.

If she hadn't been, she never would have found the place on his left side where his ribs suddenly concaved, as if kicked in.

Anya swallowed thickly, forcing down bile. "How…How did…This can't…"

One of the returning soldiers overheard her mutterings and rested his hand on her shoulder. "Jacob left his tent with Patches one day on the march back. When he came back, the Weavile had joined his team, and the Delcatty was dead. Pokemon rarely kill other pokemon, but…I'm so sorry."

_A pokemon couldn't have left a boot-shaped hole in his ribs._ _But Jacob wouldn't…_

It was the only possibility.

"Please take care of him," she murmured to the warrior, carefully handing her old pet's body off to him. Gently, she kissed the top of Patches' head before he was carried off. "I'm so sorry, my friend," she whispered.

Then, she turned on her heel and marched toward Jacob's quarters. The news of Patches' death had spread quickly through the castle, as rumors tended to do in places filled with gossipy servants. Maids and warriors alike stepped aside, murmuring condolences. They didn't even try to stop her when she flung open the double doors to her brothers' quarters.

Slowly, she closed the doors behind her, staring at her brother with pained orange eyes, trying to judge his reaction and contain her own. "Why did you bring him back? Why…Why would you do that?"

Jacob sneered. "What? Little sister doesn't want to bury her precious pet?"

The term, once an endearment, suddenly felt like an insult. "If you're going to avoid that question," she snapped, "Then tell me why you killed him."

He didn't even try to deny it. "He was in the way. Besides, he was the useless sixth pokemon, and I had found Jade. I had to get rid of one. He was the weakest link." He grinned. It wasn't the playful one he had used to give her as a child, but a vicious, cruel one. "You should be thanking me. He wouldn't have lasted a week out in the wild, and it's not like _you_ could have kept him. You're a _girl_."

"I'm a woman," she retorted. "I've been one since before you left."

"With a body like that? Ha! No, you're a child, Anya, and you always will be. Why do you think you're not married yet? Young brides are fertile and beautiful, but no one wants a _child_ bride."

Anya ground her teeth. She wasn't married because he had insisted that she remain single, not because no one wanted her! There were probably dozens of suitors for her hand that her father had to turn away because of his stupid promise.

"I don't understand. You promised to _protect_ Patches, but you _killed_ him instead? Killed the partner that fought by your side, that put your life before his own? Why would you break your promise?"

"_Fought by my side_? Please. That weakling ran from more battles than I can count. And wasn't he supposed to protect me as well? He didn't. I was wounded, and scores of my friends and men were killed. You call that protecting me? Mother and Father taught us to honor our oaths. And all oathbreakers are charged with death. I merely dealt out the punishment."

Anya flew into a rage. "Mother and Father taught us that oath breakers should be _killed_, but not this way! Besides, you swore an oath to me, and you didn't honor it, so shouldn't _you_ be killed?"

"Quiet! A stupid promise to your little sister isn't-"

"And speaking of hypocrisy, what about all the promises Mother and Father have broken? Didn't Father swear an oath to the royal family to protect the realm from all foreign invaders? But as soon as Hoenn attacks, he complains of some damn war wound that _no one had ever heard of before._ Do we see him limping? No. Has he ever complained of aches and pains? No. But he'll send his only son off to war to save his own skin!"

"I said shut up!"

"And what about marriage vows? Those are oaths of a sort. _I promise to honor and protect_," she sneered. "And how our parents have _honored_ each other. Mother is pregnant with some other man's bastard child, because _our father_ is too busy fucking another man to give _her_ the time of day. _Don't you dare talk to me about oathbreaking!_"

"_I said silence yourself!_"

Anya didn't realize she had been slapped until she felt the stinging pain across her cheek. She saw the stronger backhand coming back toward the other side of her face, but was too slow to step out of the way. She stared at him open-mouthed, raising her hands to her cheeks.

"Now look what you made me do," Jacob muttered.

This…This couldn't be Anya's brother. The Jacob she knew was kind and gentle. Silly, at times, and maybe a bit lecherous, but never cruel like this. Now she could see the shadow in his eyes had grown, destroying all the light in them. It was as if her brother had gone off to war, and some malevolent, shapeshifting creature had returned in his place.

All of a sudden, the flowery smell of the room seemed sickly sweet, and the walls around her felt as if they were pressing it. She couldn't stand it. She couldn't stand this place, and she couldn't stand him.

"_I hate you so much_," she screamed, and bolted.

After that, only snippets of memory stayed with her. She remembered stealing a bottle of wine and a Rapidash. She remembered racing out of the keep right before the gates shut behind her. She remembered losing a search party somewhere in the woods. She remembered riding out to the straight where she had watched the Dragonair and Dratini with her brother, so long ago, when they were both different people.

She thought she remembered when it started to rain, and had a vague recollection of finding a cave to get dry. However, it was hard to forget the broken and bruised Purrloin that hissed at her as soon as she entered.

She wasn't quite sure how she managed to befriend it - or her, as she later discovered - especially since half the bottle of wine was gone by then. It probably had something to do with the fire she built to get them both warm.

The rest of the evening was something she could not recollect, except through the scraps of what the search party told her when she woke up the next morning feeling sicker than she ever had before. Most likely, she had finished off the bottle of wine and passed out. When the party tried to take her home, the little Purrloin refused to leave her side, and clawed anyone that tried to separate the two of them.

However, whatever had happened in that cave, drunken stupor or no, had instilled in the pokemon a deep sense of loyalty toward Anya. When Anya's finally began to feel herself again, the two became fast friends.

* * *

"I almost feel sorry for him," Anya murmured to Pandora, as the Purrloin came to be called. Even if she couldn't answer, when Pandora sat like that, resting on her stomach with her paws rolled up under her body, ears tilted just slightly forward, her half-closed, green eyes inspecting her lazily, Anya felt that the Dark type pokemon was listening carefully.

"He was very kind," she told the attentive pokemon. "Very polite, told interesting stories, from an _excellent_ family - money _and_ lineage…handsome, too. If I was still…Still who I was, I would have thought he would make an excellent husband. And he will make an excellent husband…for someone else. Not for me. You know I can't marry even if it is for the good of the family, not yet. Jacob…"

Anya wasn't even sure she could describe the feeling to herself, let alone out loud. Her brother had continued to act as he had since he had returned home from the war. And Anya…She couldn't start another family, not with unresolved business in the first. She needed to find out what happened to Jacob, and she needed to make him the way he was before. And, if she couldn't, she wanted to get her revenge for the death of Patches.

"Well, with all that going for him, I'm sure he'll have no trouble finding a prettier, nicer, richer wife," she told Pandora with a yawn, crawling into her bed. Pandora protested loudly as she was displaced by Anya pulled the covers up to her chin before standing, circling several times, and curling up in the crook of Anya's arm.

"And no worries," Anya whispered. "I made sure to tell him. 'My lord, we've been sure to prepare best rooms for you to stay in tonight, with the most comfortable bed in the entire Kingdom!'" Anya chuckled to herself, before settling down the wait.

Not five minutes later, a cry went up as the young lord settled onto his Rapidash dung-filled bed and discovered the dead Rattata on his pillow.

Anya slept very, _very_ well that night.

* * *

Two years and six more suitors passed by, with each worse than the last, and each method of driving them away even more cruel that the previous.

Her parents began to worry about the sudden loss of her manners, and fretted that she would be stuck an old spinster. After all, Anya had turned twenty years old. Most noble women her age had at least one child, if not more.

Unknown to them, Anya was having similar worries.

"It's been two years, Pandora," she murmured to the Purrloin resting in her lap. The two of them were sitting in the solar, enjoying a cup of tea in the early afternoon.

"I haven't discovered anything about Jacob. I haven't discovered anything about Patches. I haven't even been doing anything but acting like a petulant child!" She threw her arms up in the air in disgust. Pandora sighed in her lap, distressed by her owner's frustration.

"Maybe it would be best to just marry and forget about it…"

That was when Anya noticed the letter sitting on the windowsill. She picked it up. The seal on the front was a pair of golden wings.

"Wings? There's not a House with a sigil like that…" she murmured, thought it did look a bit familiar. She glanced to Pandora before opening up the letter.

_Dear Trainee hopeful,_

_We have been watching you for a long time. We have seen your hopes and desires, your wishes and fears, your darkest moments and your greatest triumphs._

_Heroes of old did not become famous for sitting in their solars, contemplating their lives, following society's laws, and bowing out whenever a task became too difficult. They became heroes by choosing to be different, daring to stand outside the bounds of society, being brave enough to face the adversity that was placed before them._

_We would like to give you the chance to become a warrior; to train pokemon, to master a weapon. Yes, you are the women and the poor. What we give you is illegal. But it is also an opportunity to accomplish your goals, to change the world for the better._

_A chance to fight for what you believe in. Darkness is falling, faster than it did even in our most terrible nightmares. The Night that Never Ends will soon be upon us. And it will be up to you to save us from it._

_Of course, you don't have to. All you have to do is burn this letter and the sigil, and you will never hear from us again._

_Or, you could choose to be a part of something bigger. You could be a part of Altair, the Wings that Rise Above Storms, the Light that Shines in Blackness, the Unsung Champions of the World. All you must do is display our sigil tomorrow. We will know. We will see. And we will make all the arrangements._

_The decision is yours. We hope to see you at the Altair Club._

_Please burn this letter after you have read it. Tell no one of what you have read._

At the end of the note, a pair of golden wings were placed where a name would normally be signed.

Her heart racing, Anya re-read the letter thrice more before throwing it into the hearth. She watched the edges blacken and the paper catch fire.

She wasn't considering this. If she was caught training pokemon, caught using a weapon, Anya would be put to death. Besides, the letter was specifically addressed to women _and_ the poor. There was no way, not a chance in hell, that she was going to train with a commoner as an _equal_.

No, no. She should tell her family. They would take care of this "Altair Club" once and for all, and Anya could go back to her life.

Go back to her life? The life of refusing suitors, hating her brother, never doing anything?

"I _refuse_," she whispered out loud, clenching her fists. Decisively, she picked up the envelope, prepared to throw it into the fire as well, before noticing the slight weight to it. She turned the letter upside down and let the golden wings that was the sigil of Altair slide into her palm. With a leather cord, it would make a rather lovely necklace…

Denial or not, Anya had already made her decision.

"Shit."

* * *

"_Absolutely_ not!"

"Anya, just try it," cajoled her mother. Autumn Riveras, the little baby girl Lady Josephine had given birth to just two years earlier, was bouncing on her knee, squealing happily.

"No!"

"What are we arguing about?" Lord Andrew entered the room, followed by two of his knights.

Lady Josephine sighed deeply. "As you know, our daughter has been a little…rebellious as of late."

"A little?" Was Andrew's dry response. Anya gave a "Humph!" and looked away.

"Perhaps more than a little," Josephine replied. "I recently received a letter from a school of etiquette. It claims they'll be able to get rid of her less, ah, un-ladylike tendencies. We just send her away to Sunyshore for a year, and they'll take care of her. Just think of the wonderful, rich husband she'll find when she comes back…Oh! And they call themselves…" she glanced at the letter to check the name. "The Altair Club."

_The Altair Club? This was what they meant when they said they would make arrangements!_ Unfortunately, Anya had been fighting going. It would look very strange if she suddenly decided she wanted to go. Luckily, her parents would most likely force her to go to the "school of etiquette"…

"I agree with Anya. No."

"What?" Lady Josephine was shocked.

"What?" Anya echoed, equally shocked.

"The Kingdom of Sinnoh is far away. I want my daughter safe, where I can keep an eye on her," was Andrew's only reply.

Desperately, Anya searched for an excuse to go, but her mind was blank. She _had_ to get to Sunyshore and the Altair Club…

"If it's safety you're worried about, my lord, I would be happy to accompany her," one of the knights stepped forward.

The young knight's name eluded Anya for several seconds. He was very tall, despite being younger than Anya - Then again, most people were taller than Anya. He wore his black hair short and out of his orange eyes. The midnight strands defied all logic and stood straight on end. Unlike most knights, he did not wear plate armor, or even chain mail, but instead had a light, leather breastplate over his shirt. A Shuppet followed along close behind him.

_Sir Emile Abraxas_, she remembered. _Of course. He was only knighted recently; he'll be dying to prove himself to father_. "You don't need to do that…" she murmured.

"Oh, but it would be my honor, my lady," was his cool reply.

"Then it's settled!" Josephine jumped in before Andrew or Anya could protest. "Anya will take a boat for Sinnoh from Castelia, take etiquette lessons from the Altair Club, and become a perfect daughter. She'll leave immediately!"

* * *

_He can't come with me to the Altair Cub_, Anya thought at their Rapidash made their way south through the desert toward Castelia. _He's going to ruin everything._

There was only one thing to do. She had to get rid of him. All she needed to do was grab one of his strange, discus weapons and kill him.

Of course, there were the four pokemon following him as well.

_It can't be helped_, she thought to herself fiercely. Slowly, she inched forward, reaching a shaking hand toward his weapon…

"Don't move," she whispered to him, holding up the black disk.

To her chagrin, Emile ignored her and continued on.

"Hey! Are you listening to me?" She yelled. "I said don't move!"

"I heard you," he called back. "But I know you don't know how to use that thing. You probably don't even know what it's called."

"Of course I do! It's a…" What was it again? Something with a Ch… "A chocolate!"

Emile snorted before wheeling his Rapidash around to grab the weapon out of her hand. "A chakram," he corrected her. "You don't want to kill me. You've never killed anyone in your life, Lady Anya, and you don't want to start with me."

"And why not?" Anya muttered sullenly.

Emile's only reply was to grasp the end of his black cloak and flip the corner up. Embroidered there was a pair of golden wings.

"You don't want to kill me because I'm a Master in the Altair Club."

* * *

**A/N: **I want to apologize for the absolute _shit _that is this chapter.

I'm not sorry for the characters. I have no regrets about the storyline. (Well, except for the part about Patches' sudden evolution. I completely forgot Skitties need Moonstones to evolve. Whoops!)

But I am sorry for the quality of writing. Description and word choice and all that are just...terrible. I mean, I was doing okay for the first couple of pages, and then it kind of got worse. And then I found my way back somewhere in the middle. And then it went downhill from there. I blame my recent obsession with bad fanfiction killing off my brain cells. (Forbiden Fruit, My Immortal, The Marissa Games, Invader Zim: Born Again Christian...They make me feel so much better about my own writing.) Also, if you get any called from the Department of Redundancy Department, let me know. I've been having some trouble with them lately.

I should probably also warn you than this will probably contain a lot of unintentional Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire references. I probably made some sort of "Winter is coming" or "The night is dark and full of terrors" reference in Altair's letter. I don't know how I'm going to get through weapons training without saying, "Stick 'em with the pointy end!"

Uh...Chapters will probably not be this long. I kind of got carried away.

Thinking of doing introduction chapters for other characters as well. Thoughts?

By the way, I'm still accepting OCs. I will be until the first day at the Altair Club. Though, I have surprisingly few noble ladies. I thought I would be overloaded with them. I've also noticed that we have quite a few characters that believe everyone should be equal. If everyone believed that...Then the whole system wouldn't be in place. XD

OH! Someone mentioned Assassin's Creed to me. Yes, the main character in the first one is named Altaïr, and the club name is Altair. I...never played Assassin's Creed before someone pointed it out to me. Anyways, I figured I'd point out a difference in pronunciation. Altaïr, as in the character, has a diaeresis or whatever it's called in his name. That means that the "i" gets a stress or its own syllable or something. Anyways, his name is pronounced "ahl-tah-EER". Altair, however, has no accent-thingie, so no extra stress of syllable. Therefore, it's "ahl-TEAR", like the stuff we breath.

I...sort of considered changing this story's rating to "M", for language and adult themes and all that. But, looking over the chapter, it doesn't have anything that does anything more than stretch the "T" rating a bit. So I'm going to leave it unless I get a complaint, in which case I'll gladly change it. But I might go back later and put a warning at the beginning of the first chapter.

Reviews are, as always, greatly appreciated.

~Ami


	3. Chapter 3

Roselle wasn't used to the feeling of movement when she slept. Thus, the slight swaying feeling, coupled with the freezing night air, was enough to make the seven-year-old's brown eyes flutter open.

Her father, Thomas Monroe, adjusted Roselle on his back. "Go back to sleep, Rosie."

"Why are we out to late at night?" Roselle yawned. "And didn't you say Mama shouldn't leave the house until the baby's born?" She asked, noticing her heavily pregnant mother, Maddine Monroe, huffing and puffing up the mountain road beside them.

In fact, it wasn't just the three of them. Several other villagers were walking along with them. Roselle recognized the town crier, the elderly man who sold them a Miltank last year, the young woman who begged two stalls down from theirs during Saturday markets, among others, people who had been her friends and neighbors.

"Papa?" she mumbled. "What's going on?"

There was a slight hesitation in her father's step before he turned.

At first, Roselle thought that the town was having a midnight festival, and had draped all the buildings in red and yellow banners, or maybe a herd of Volbeat and Illmuse had gathered in the streets. It was only when she smelled the putrid stench of smoke that she realized that the village was on fire.

Roselle was no longer tired.

Thomas set her down on the ground, allowing to walk. "But…What happened? What about our farm?"

"The farm is gone!" her father snapped. Roselle cowered in fear. "It's the middle of winter, your mother is due any day now, and we have no place to live. Damn," he swore to himself.

"You don't need to worry," smiled a blond man as he approached them. Roselle buried her face into her mother's skirts, too shy to look him in the face. "Do you remember three winters ago, when my family didn't have enough money for food? You sold us produce from your farm at a reduced price. Actually, you practically _gave _it to us."

"We did?" Her father glanced at Maddine, who smiled innocently.

"Yes!" The blond man replied. "We wouldn't have survived that winter if not for your family. It's time to repay the favor. Our home is further up the mountain. You can stay there until you can rebuild your farmhouse. We'll help you with that, too."

Roselle had never seen such a warm smile on her father's face. "Thank you very much, sir. You can't know how much this means to our family."

"Come along, Rosie," Maddine gently untangled her daughter's fists from her dress. "We're going along with the nice man to his home."

"But…what about our home?" Roselle whimpered. "What's going to happen to it? What about our farm?"

"We'll build a new home when spring comes, in a few weeks," her mother soothed. "Don't you worry. We'll be just fine."

Roselle nodded and slipped her hand into her mother's. She followed her parents, and the kind, blond stranger, but not before glancing back one more at what would become known as the Great Jubilife Fire.

* * *

Spring. The time for planting, for sowing new things. And, of course, ten years to the day since Roselle had been born.

Not that they celebrated. Gifts and festivities and the like were for those that had money. And, though Roselle's family was a little more well-to-do than some others in the village, they had never fully recovered from the fire three years ago. Even now, some of their fields were unusable, since buried debris tangled in the roots of young plants and killed them.

Clearing one of those fields was what Roselle helped her father do on her birthday; or, at least, she watched their Tauros clear the field. The great creature was attached to a plow that cut deep furrows in the earth, which Roselle dropped seeds into and covered with dirt once more. Tommy, or Young Tom, as her father liked to call him, toddled along behind, giggling at everything and nothing at all. Every once in a while, their father would stop to dislodge a rock or piece of burned wood from the ground, tossing it to the side. They would eventually haul it all out of the way.

It was the hottest part of the day, hot enough that sweat was trickling down the back of Roselle's neck, when her father called her over for help with a particularly tricky weed. It appeared to be nothing more than a twig with a couple of leaves growing out of the top, maybe an inch or two in height. However, the roots must have grown deep, for her father could not lift it.

So the two of them started the ordeal of digging the plant out enough that they could pull it from the ground. Roselle made sure to keep a close eye on Tommy, leaving her work occasionally to drag him closer whenever her wandered off.

It didn't take long to figure out that the little sprout wasn't a plant at all. If anything, it was more rock-like than plantlike, with a brown and black, shell-like base.

It was only when it sprung up from its nap in the dirt with a surprised "Twig!" that they realized it was a pokemon.

"Turtwig!" It cried, surprised to see two humans bending over the small hole. It stood, shaking the excess dirt and dust from its back.

"Papa, Papa, look! It's a pokemon!" Roselle gasped. She had never been close to a wild pokemon before; most were violent and would attack humans. However, this one seemed friendly, and even butted its head against her hand when she reached out toward it.

"Yes, Rosie. I realized," was her father's dry reply. "But what was it doing in our field?"

"Sleeping," Roselle replied back, equally dry. "That's why it was snoring in the dirt. It must have crawled under the dirt to escape the heat." She reached out to gently scratch under its chin. The pokemon gave a contented humming sound, leaning against Roselle's legs. "Can I keep it, Papa?"

Thomas gave a growl of frustration, pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger. For a moment, Roselle was scared he would say no.

Then, Tommy toddled up, squealing. "Twig!" Tommy cried, wrapping his arms around the pokemon, who stiffened but did not run away, even when the toddler drooled on his head.

Thomas sighed deeply, as if resigned. "You will take care of it yourself. You will feed it yourself. You will clean up after it yourself. Is that understood? This thing is your responsibility."

Roselle smiled and threw her arms around her father. "Thank you, Papa!"

* * *

Roselle was twelve when her mother discovered her talent for sewing. In actuality, she had been practicing for much longer. She hemmed her own dresses whenever she grew too tall to fit in them, she made all of her brother's new clothes, she mended the tears in her father's work pants. And, every once in a while, when she could find a spare piece of clothes, she would practice the fine embroidery she occasionally saw on noble ladies' dresses. Of course, she owned none of the satin cloth and silk thread on their dresses, but Roselle practiced with what little she had.

Maddine rejoiced. Her daughter, normally boyish and preferring to play outside, had taken up needlework and had become a seamstress. And no mediocre one, at that. Perhaps Roselle could go on to become a lady's maid, far above her social standing as a farmer's daughter. Then, she might be able to find a marriage with a rich man, or at least a man richer than her family. Tommy would also be able to marry a woman of better birth than them, and she and Thomas would be able to retire in comfort.

Her father was much more skeptical. Then again, Roselle agreed with him on some level. Her mother's dream was much to idealistic, but she couldn't blame her. Her family, though they had enough to feed themselves, was not well born. This kind of chance was something Maddine would have dreamed of.

So Thomas went to visit the Duchess of Jubilife one day with a scrap of her embroidery in his hand, shortly before Roselle's sixteenth birthday

Roselle didn't expect much. Maybe a congratulations, perhaps a bit of encouragement to keep trying.

But she didn't expect the words her father came back with.

"She says she would never take a _farmer's daughter_ for a maid."

The words hurt Roselle, but not as deeply as her father's helplessness. "I told you, we never should have tried this!" she heard him raging to her mother that night.

"It was worth a try," Maddine tried to soothe him, but Thomas would not be consoled.

"And now we've brought all this unnecessary attention to ourselves," he sighed, sitting heavily in his chair. "We've reached too high again, Maddine, just like last time. What if it's not just a fire this time? What if they try to hurt one of us?"

Roselle snuck past her frustrated parents, grabbing a lantern on the way out. Turtwig followed close behind, surprisingly stealthy despite his appearance.

The young woman loved the fields, day or night. She often sat out among the plants, along except for Turtwig and a few Starly, who she always brought food for. However, there was something peaceful about the fields after the sun had left the sky, when there was no one but her and Turtwig and the wind rustling through the plants. Maybe it was dangerous, but it never felt like a powerful wild pokemon could pop out of nowhere and hurt her.

Settling herself on a tree stump, Roselle pulled her needlework out of her bag. What had been wrong with it? It looked almost identical to a design she had seen only a few weeks back on the Duchess' own dress. Better, even. The cloth, through rough, hadn't puckered at all, and the thread seemed like it had been painted onto the dress, instead of stitched on.

In a fit of rage, Roselle crumpled up the scrap of cloth and threw it away from her. Turtwig gave a cry of dismay and chased after it. He returned the scrap back to her, laying the cloth gently over her knees.

"You're right," Roselle whispered, patting the pokemon on the head. "Sorry," she apologized to the Grass type pokemon. "Sorry," she repeated, though it was directed at the scrap of cloth instead of the pokemon this time.

"I just…I don't understand it," she sighed, sweeping her dark brown hair over one shoulder to braid it, before unbraiding it just as quickly. It was starting to become a nervous habit of hers.

"What's the difference between men and women, the upper and lower classes?" She mused. "Money? Power? Who your parents were? Humans sure are strange," she spoke to Turtwig. The turtle-like pokemon just leaned against her legs, giving her what comfort he could.

"I mean, look at pokemon," Roselle mumbled, reaching down to scratch her pet's head. "Most men don't care if pokemon are male or female, since both genders are usually equally strong. There are even some female pokemon that are stronger than male pokemon of the same species! And pokemon don't even pay attention to money, or class, or birth! They're all equal. They all have a chance to be just as strong as all the others."

"Twig!" Turtwig replied in agreement.

"Yes, I suppose it's no use getting frustrated over," she sighed. Still, it troubled her.

Roselle, however, didn't have time to be trouble when a shape darted down out of the sky with a cry, landing in front of her. It's great wings buffeted her with the wind they kicked up, and its eyes gleamed menacingly.

Roselle leaped to her feet, all screams caught in her throat as terror took hold of her. Her parents had warned her about going off into the fields alone; about the crazed, wild pokemon that attacked humans, but of course she hadn't listened. At that moment, Roselle swore she would never disobey her parents again if she got out of the situation unharmed.

But the pokemon didn't attack her, instead gave a trill. Its eyes, in fact, were not gleaming menacingly, and did not even have the red sheen to them that enraged pokemon all had. Instead, the dark orbs blinked curiously at her. Turtwig, who had jumped in front of Roselle protectively, carefully wandered up to inspect the pokemon, and the young woman followed suit. It to her a moment to recognize the pokemon as a Braviary. A pokemon from Unova - that was a rarity in Sinnoh. Gently, she stroked its soft feathers.

Only then did she notice the letter gripped in its mouth.

Roselle was one of the few commoners in the world who could read. Her father had taught her the letters when she was young, before Tommy was born, off of the farm's bills. Thomas had worried that he would never have a boy to take over the farm when he passed on, so instead, he began to train Roselle in everything she needed to know.

Of course, that all stopped when her younger brother was born, so she was out of the habit of reading. It took her several moments to decipher the letters and words on the page, and even then, she couldn't believe what she was reading. Maybe the flickering light of the lantern was making her eyes play tricks on her.

But when she struggled through the letter a second time, she knew what she had read was true.

It seemed she was going to have to disobey her parents after all.

Carefully, Roselle set the edge of the letter and envelope on fire with the flame from the lantern, watching as it burned to ashes in the dust before stomping out the embers. She whispered a thanks to the Braviary, feeding it a bit of the food that she kept for the Starlies in her bag.

Then, she pulled out her needle and thread, and began the embroidery on the hem of her green dress. She could never wear the gold symbol in any way; it would raise too many questions about where a farmer's daughter had gotten such a frivolous trinket. However, she could embroider a pair of wings onto her dress. That would have to do.

* * *

"They call it the Altair Academy of Etiquette," she explained to her parents, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. "Their mission is to re-train the more rebellious of young noble ladies, as well as teach etiquette to people like us who want to reach a higher station in life."

Maddine was overjoyed. "You could become a lady's maid," she sighed, longing filling her eyes.

Again, her father was skeptical. "What sort of young ladies would be rebellious? They have money. They have good marriages waiting for them down the line. What is there to rebel against?"

Roselle shrugged. "I don't know. But why would it be in the letter if it weren't true? And they say I'm one of the special ones; I have special talents, so they'll let me attend for free. _And_ I can bring a pet, so you won't have to worry about Turtwig. Please, Papa, I've never wanted anything so much in my entire life!"

Her father glanced up. "Anything?"

"Next to Turtwig, I've never wanted anything so much in my entire life," Roselle amended.

"Please, Thomas," her mother begged. "Just imagine it. A lady's maid! We could buy a house that's twice as big as this one."

"And imagine the young women Tommy could meet through me," Roselle added in. "If Tommy marries a wealthy woman, you'd have her dowry on top of that bigger house. You'd never have to work again."

"Oh, it would be perfect," Maddine sighed. "We'd never have to work another day in our lives. Please?" She clasped her hands together, her eyes wide.

"Please?" Roselle adopted a similar pose.

Thomas looked from one woman to the other, their wide eyes sparkling with hope. Then, he gave a long sigh.

"Pack your things."

* * *

**A/N:** I don't think I've ever been able to update consistently, but here I am, updating every other week, for the second time in a row. I'm surprised at myself.

Don't think that's going to continue, though. You see, I'm moving. I'm going away to college. I move into my dorm room on August 21. And I am terrified. I don't know when the next update will be, you'll have to give me a chance to get settled.

Your guys' reviews are the most amazing things ever. I know I haven't been able to reply to all your reviews, which I'm sorry about. But I appreciate every one. (Maybe I'll be able to reply more when character submission is over and I'm not too busy packing/sorting through OCs.) I love it when you tell me how much you love the fic, and your opinions on the characters and what you think will happen. It makes me really happy to know that people are excited for my story~

By the way, I don't mind criticism. I even take flames, though I prefer constructive comments. After all, if no one tells me what I'm doing wrong, I'm never going to get any better, am I? And don't spare my feelings because I complain about my writing. I always complain about my writing. (My complaint this chapter? It's very short, and I lost whatever attempt I had at medieval language last chapter.) And don't not tell me what I'm doing wrong because you're afraid I might not accept your OC. I completely forget which reviewer is attached to which OC unless their name is in the review.

By the way, a couple of reviewers suggested doing introduction chapters for only main characters. I've decided to take their advice, but in a slightly different way. There are going to be four POV characters, one in each demographic. (Female noble Trainee, female commoner Trainee, male commoner Trainee, male noble Master.) We've already seen the first two: Anya and Roselle. However, there will be other main characters, but they'll be seen through the eyes of those four POV characters. Also, I'm going to try to give all four POV characters a romance of some sort, and not with each other. (Ugh. Did I just commit to writing four separate romances?) Not being a POV character doesn't mean your character won't have a romance! (No. I just committed to more than four. I'm crazy, I'm crazy, I'm crazy.) I have no idea who our romantic interests will be. (Except for Roselle, because I had a moment of inspiration and now have an incredible romance all planned out for her.) If you feel like your character would be inclined toward one of the POV characters, let me know. Don't be put off if it looks like someone else is interested in the same character, I'm not accepting everyone, and I can always change it around if needed. Also, if I have a moment of inspiration with romance, like I did Roselle, I'll try to PM you to make sure you approve of the pairing. Unless you're an anonymous reviewer, in which case you'll have to take whatever I give you. XD

Oh. For newcomers to the story, yes, I'm still accepting OCs. I haven't picked who's going to be the next two POV characters, so don't give up hope! If you're not sure about the type of character to submit, I've listed the demographics of accepted characters on the bottom of my profile, though it doesn't say who...

You might notice I've added a couple of new portions to the character profile. If you've already submitted a character, you do not need to give me these extra portions unless I specifically PM you. (Though, the part on how the character behaves differently while bitten by the love bug would be useful...) And if I don't PM you, it does not mean that I haven't accepted your character. I've actually only PMed a couple of people about it...

By the way, the anonymous reviewer who submitted Roselle might notice I made a couple of changes to her. (Like her age. Needed to make her a little older for her epic romance.) But, see, since I'm the author, I have this thing called an "Artistic License". See, this thing right here! (What? It's just a school ID? Pfft. NO. It's obviously an artistic license! See, it says so right here, in black Sharpie!) But I won't change around the important things about your character.

Uh, I really hope I'm getting all these OCs in character. It's, like, my biggest fear that I'm writing them completely the wrong way. I'm best at loud, sort of obnoxious characters, so if quiet or serious characters seem a little OOC, let me know, and I'll try to fix it.

By the way, do you guys notice all the foreshadowing I'm doing here, or is it only because I'm writing it? Because I feel like I'm really blatantly stating everything from what pokemon people are going to have to what characters are going to be in the story.

Oh, gee, this author's note really dragged on. Sorry about that. Until next time, adieu, adieu!

~Ami


	4. Chapter 4

The first time he saw the lord and lady of Lilycove, Dagan Talbot was impressed. After all, he had only been a little boy; five years old, maybe.

It was the beginning of his second week working in the castle. His mother had brought him to help in her own duties; after all, with more hands working, their debt to the noble family might actually be paid off before Dagan's future grandchildren all passed away. In any case, his hands, still tiny at the time, were small enough to fit into all the nooks and crannies of the castle to clean the dust out.

His hands were down the throat of a (very expensive) vase, scrubbing at the inside with a rough cloth, when the lord and lady came sweeping down the hall, resplendent in violet-and-red robes. A silver net dripping with ivory flowers bound the lady's dark hair up, while the lord wore a golden collar studded with rubies the size of Dagan's little fist. Even their son, who was of age with Dagan, was garbed in finery as he was nudged along by the lord's Mightyena.

Dagan could do nothing but stare with his mouth gaping open as they swept by him.

Only when they had turned the corner did his mother smack the back of his head and scold him for not bowing.

But as the months passed, the lord and lady seemed less and less dazzling to Dagan. Yes, they wore fine clothes and shimmery jewelry, but their entire family was strange. The lord and lady treated each other with a strange distance, more cordial than affectionate, and their son was raised by his nurses and attendants, not his mother.

Dagan understood his own parents even less, with the strange, secret smiles they exchanged and the whispers and giggles when they thought he was asleep. Sometimes they would send Dagan out to play on his own so they could have "alone time". The two had been married for ten years, and had lived alone for five. How could they possibly need more alone time? But, somehow, they found a way to pass it. The entire relationship confused Dagan, but he liked it more than the polite separation that the noble family had.

He asked his parents about why their two families were so different once, but they had exchanged an amused glance and burst into laughter.

When his parents finally managed to regain their breath, Rita went down on one knee before him. His mother had been born and raised in Lilycove, and had the black hair that was so common in the Five Great Kingdoms. Dagan himself had inherited that dark hair, though he lacked her soft, brown eyes.

"Dagan, you know your father was not born here, correct?" she asked.

Of course he knew. His father took every chance he could to tell him stories of his life growing up on the Seven Islands. (Dagan's favorite's always had to do with the invaders from Kanto, who seemed to think they owned the Seven Islands, and how they were always horribly embarrassed by some simple trick the islanders would play on them.) Henry didn't even _look_ like he came from the Five Great Kingdoms - his hair was a sandy blond, in comparison to the browns and blacks most people had, and his eyes were a dreamy green, the same color as Dagan's.

"Yes, Mom," he replied.

"Here, you people don't know how to love." Now is was Henry speaking. His father waved his hand as if swatting away a fly. "You marry for money, for power, for looks…Pah!" he spat. "Men and women were given hearts to we could love, not so we could ignore our own emotions."

Then, Henry's grin widened by several inches. "Ah, and other parts to love with, of course." His mother turned the color of a beet and started giggling girlishly.

All of a sudden, Dagan was ushered out of the house and told to go play for an hour or three.

Yes, his family was very, very strange.

* * *

As he grew older, Dagan would occasionally be called on to attend Mason, the lord's son. The boy was adventurous, always running off to see something new and exciting. Often, he would escape his nurses and his maids and all others attempting to catch him and disappear for hours on end.

So, on occasion, the lord and lady would send Dagan to accompany him around the castle. They had hoped that, if Mason had a friend, he would take them on his little "adventures".

They lord and lady were sorely mistaken. Dagan and Mason were not necessarily enemies - they never quarreled, never disagreed - but the two were not friends, either. Part of that was Dagan's fault. The boy wasn't social and hadn't been trained to pretend to be, like most nobles. He never initiated conversations, and answered questions with as few words as possible.

The other part, however, was on the shoulders of the young lord. In the end, Mason was the heir to the lordship of Lilycove, one of the larger cities in the Kingdom of Hoenn. And Dagan himself? He was a serf, doomed to serve until his family paid off their debts. Their stations were too different for Mason to accept.

And so the weeks passed. Mason would mostly ignore Dagan while trying to lose his loyal tail, and Dagan would do his best to keep up and prevent any injuries on the part of the young lord.

Then came a day when Mason went too far. Stealth was not Dagan's strong point, but he did his best to follow the boy as he darted through alleyways and raced across open roads. He seemed to be trying even harder than usual to lose Dagan.

For a few moments, Dagan lost sight of him as he sprinted around a corner. When he turned, he found exactly where the young lord had taken him.

"Milord," he spoke up, probably for the first time. "You can't leave the town. There are wild pokemon out there. They'll _hurt_ you."

Mason didn't turn to look at him, too intent on the tall grass in front of him to even look at the boy that had been trudging after him. However, Dagan could see one cheek lift in a smile as he adjusted the rope looped over his shoulder.

"Of course there are wild pokemon," he replied, as if speaking to the air and not to Dagan. "That's why I'm going out into the wilds. I've heard there have been rare ones appearing a couple of miles east of here. A good lord knows the surroundings of his village," Mason declared before setting off into the tall grass.

For several minutes, Dagan debated following him. He paced back and forth before coming to a decision, then changed his mind again and resumed pacing.

The distant scream made his choice for him. Dagan barreled into the grass, following the young lord's cry.

Dagan found him in a small clearing about three hundred yards into the fields outside the city. He had dropped his rope when he had been attacked, and deep gouges marked the spots where the pokemon had stood.

The young lord himself was back up against the forest, darting from one tree to the next. A white pokemon with a jagged red stripe chased after him, snarling furiously. The Zangoose's eyes seemed to be tinted red as it slashed at Mason.

Dagan would look back and wonder how he did it later, but at the time, it was all instinct. Snatching the rope off the ground, he formed a quick loop and knotted off the end.

"Over here!" he called to Mason, and the lord came running past him, shrieking like a little girl the whole time. The Zangoose, as expected, chased after.

Right into Dagan's waiting loop. The rope wrapped around its right paw, and the pokemon whirled with a snarl and turned its claws on him.

In response, Dagan smashed his head into the pokemon's.

* * *

When Dagan came to, the lord and lady considered him a hero. Using his head (though not quite the expected way) paid off, and the Zangoose had fainted in one blow.

Of course, so had Dagan himself, but that was little more than a minor detail. The lord and lady granted him a single boon in return for their son's life, as well as anything he could ever need if he would agree to become Mason's bodyguard.

When he thought back on it years later, he probably should have asked for the forgiveness of his parents' debts. However, at the time, all he could see was the family's Mightyena, who was slowly getting fatter as the weeks passed by, and how he had never had a pet. So, instead of rescuing his family from years of servitude, he asked for an Egg.

Three weeks later, Dagan received the last of the four Eggs that had been laid, and he took it everywhere. He made a leather satchel and carried it with him while guarding the lord, and took it to the beach and buried it in the sand. When an early spring snow came, he unzipped his jacket and stuffed it in there, wrapping his arms underneath his "pregnant" belly.

Even after the other three Eggs hatched, Dagan refused to let go of it. The lord and lady promised him another pokemon, any pokemon he could desire, but Dagan refused. He would find a way to make the Egg hatch if he had to!

Finally, six weeks after everyone else had given up all hope, a tiny shiver ran through the egg, and the first crack appeared on the top.

* * *

The day Dagan turned sixteen, the castle was in a tizzy.

That confused him. Why should his birthday be a cause for turmoil in the castle? It was hardly celebrated even in his own home.

"It's because there's another family visiting, lackwit." Mason was very fond of calling Dagan names. The two had gotten along better since, but Dagan didn't quite understand why the young lord continued to insult him.

"A very powerful family from Johto," Mason explained loftily. "They're looking into a marriage contract for the youngest daughter. Johto and Kanto have been at war for years, but neither have been able to push the other past the Redlands, partially because of the incredibly powerful and violent pokemon that live there. Both sides are always looking for ways to add powerful warriors to their armies, and what better way than with a wedding? If she's not pretty, though, I'll tell my parents to send her off."

For once in his life, Dagan was glad he wasn't a noble. Thinking back on what his father had said so many years ago about hearts and emotions, he was thankful that he would have the option to marry whoever he wanted to, whenever he wanted to.

The nobles from Johto arrived with all of the pomp and circumstance that was befitting of their station. The Rapidash were a creamy white, and the carriage carrying the mother and daughter was gilded with gold and silver. And the lady herself was indeed beautiful, though she wrinkled her nose distastefully as Mason's Mightyena trotted up to sniff at her dress.

His own Poochyena, Aria, sat at Dagan's heels where he stood with the castle guard, more sullen than dutiful. Dagan had beaten her in another wrestling match that morning, and she was still sulking and nursing her wounded pride. However, when a Houndoom belonging one of the brother's of the visiting family trotted by, the growled and bared her teeth in challenge. The Houndoom snapped back at her, before Dagan nudged the runty Poochyena back with his foot.

"Aria, be good," he hissed at her, and the pokemon sent a glare in his direction before returning to her sullen obedience.

That was when all hell broke loose.

With a roar, the great pokemon came charging forward, its eyes red with rage. Its brown fur bristled as it knocked aside its handlers with its long sharp claws. Then, it turned its eyes on Mason.

The rest was all a blur.

* * *

"That was quite impressive."

Dagan awoke with a start and tried to sit up, but immediately groaned in pain. His arm…

With a bark, Aria leaped up onto the bed. The Poochyena nuzzled his chin and licked his cheeks affectionately before curling up in the crook of his uninjured arm. Gently, he lifted it to scratch between her ears.

"What…" Dagan's voice was hoarse, and he coughed several times. A hand rested between his shoulder blades and pressed a glass to his lips. Water had never tasted so good.

"What happened?" He finally managed after two more glasses.

"We brought the Ursaring as a gift for the menagerie. It had always liked my sister, though I doubt the feeling's mutual, and it must have gotten jealous to see your young lord with her. If it wasn't for you, the both of them would probably be dead. And that Poochyena of yours. He jumped right into the fray when it looked like you were going to lose."

"She," Dagan corrected. "Aria."

"Right." In the darkness of the night, Dagan couldn't make out the man's face, but he assumed he was one of the two brothers from Johto. That would put him somewhere in his early or mid twenties, depending on which brother he was. The man's eyes were the color of the ocean, somewhere between green and blue, and there was something calculating behind them. A Houndoom, the same one that Aria had challenged earlier, watched him as well, equally quiet, equally calculating.

"As I was saying," the man said after a slight pause, "That was quite impressive."

"Thank you, milord. It's mostly just instinct," he replied honestly. "I don't really remember much of what happened. I just…do it." He glanced down at his right arm, which was covered in bandages from shoulder to palm. "I assume it must have gotten its claws in me."

"Yes," the man replied. "You finally managed to knock it out with that whip of yours. Speaking of which, I never knew that serfs were allowed to carry weapons. Or battle pokemon, for that matter."

Dagan winced at that, and his arm throbbed in response. However, there was nothing accusatory in the man's tone, only mild indifference, as if they were talking about the weather instead of something forbidden in every one of the Five Great Kingdoms.

He was unable to mimic that lightness in his own tone. "It was given to me so I could protect Lord Mason." His voice shook as he responded. "And Aria doesn't usually fight with me. She just jumped in. They said…they said they'd make me a squire if it got to be a problem." That part, at least, was true.

"Have you ever thought about any other options?"

"What other options? My family owes a debt to the castle. I need to work."

"I wasn't talking about that," the man said. He stepped forward and pulled up a chair to sit in. His voice dropped to little more than a whisper. "Have you ever heard of the Altair Club?"

"The what?"

"Altair Club. I wouldn't be surprised. Everything I'm about to tell you now? It does not leave this room. Ever."

Dagan was very confused now, but he listened.

"The Altair Club is a group that seeks to give noble women and people of lesser birth training in weapons and the battling of pokemon."

"What? Why?" Dagan forgot they were supposed to be whispering.

"Hush!"

"Sorry. Isn't that illegal? Why would you do that?"

The man gave a sigh. "Haven't you ever wanted to be something more than you are?"

"A lord? Never."

"Not a lord, not necessarily. But you would have the freedom to give Aria the training she wants." The Poochyena was watching the two of them carefully, her eyes narrowed into slits. "And you. Haven't you ever wanted to get real training with that whip of yours? It would be better than barreling into battle with only instinct to guide you. This is a chance to truly train yourself."

"I've…I never thought about it before," Dagan admitted. "But why would Altair choose to help us?"

"The world is a dangerous place, and is growing more dangerous as time passes on. Altair wants to give everyone a chance to protect themselves, no matter the danger. We are the wings of light in a world where darkness is falling. Isn't that enough?"

For a long, long time, Dagan was silent as he gently scratched Aria behind the ears.

Then, he said, "I'll do it."

"Excellent," the man said as he stood from his seat. "I'll see to the necessary arrangements." And then he left, silent as a shadow, leaving Dagan to wonder if the whole thing had been a dream brought on by the pain.

But, sure enough, a month later, Dagan packed for the Altair Academy of Etiquette.

* * *

**A/N:** Well, here we have the next installment in "Altair"! (And earlier than I expected, too.)

Surprisingly, I don't hate this chapter as much as I do the last two. I dunno.

Ugh. You guys really have no idea how excited I am for this story. Really, I am. I would be drawing tons of fanart for all the wonderful things I have planned...but I can't draw. At all. Rats. I guess I'll just write.

Oh! OCs! Yes, they are still open. I am also opening them again to people who have already submitted characters to submit a second or third character, if they want. Also, please tell your friends and family! I have to pick OCs based on the smallest demographic, and I'm actually having to exclude a lot of really amazing OCs from the larger demographics so I can keep ratios kind of even.

Also, I now have a forum open where you can submit your OCs, if you would prefer to use that. If you have OC-submit stories of your own and your looking for characters, you can also create a thread there looking for them. The link can be found at the bottom of my profile.

So, here we have Dagan, our third main character. (I also revealed a second character in here. Figure out who it is on your own.) Hopefully I'm writing everyone in character. The last POV character will be a Master, and then we'll get into the bulk of the story.

By the way, I have a question. What do people eat in the pokemon world? Not chicken, obviously, but I'm going to start crying if I have to write about how someone was eating Pidgey roasted in lemon sauce with cloves of garlic.

Next update will be when I have time, which will hopefully be in two weeks. Like all the other updates.

~Ami


	5. Chapter 5

The day of Leon's sixteenth birthday was a time of celebration for the Skylin household. After all, it was not every day that the heir became a full-grown man. All morning, his nurses congratulated him, and the servants smiled. His mother could not even be in the same room as him, as she would break down in tears of joy every time she saw him.

Of course, the nurses, servants, and even the Baroness of Mistralon would not be there to celebrate with him. Leon and his father were flying to the Entralink for his coming-of-age ceremony.

Thankfully, Howard Skylin's Braviary was fast, not to mention strong enough to carry Leon, his father, and his own Rufflet, Fluxus. They landed in the grassy field at the center of the region in just over an hour.

However, as soon as they stepped out, a priest stepped out of the forest. His eyes were wide, and he was shaking slightly

"The ceremony has been canceled today. I'm sorry," he apologized.

His father's face darkened. "My son is turning sixteen today, and you are telling me there will be no coming of age ceremony?"

"You don't understand!" the poor priest cried. "We had the ceremonial paints ready, and then…You had best come into the forest." The man shook his head, muttering to himself as he walked back into the shadows of the trees.

Howard was not happy. Leon could tell by the scowl on his face and the dark look in his eyes. "The Skylins have always had the coming-of-age ceremony on their sixteenth birthdays," he muttered. "Whatever this is, it had better be important."

"Why don't we find out?" Leon suggested, following his father's Braviary as it glided into the forest. Fluxus flapped along behind, a good deal less graceful.

On a normal occasion, the sight of the forest itself was a wonder. Trees towered up a hundred feet over Leon's head, sunlight streaming through the interweaving leaves to dapple the grassy clearing below. The trunks were very close together, making Leon feel almost as if he was in an enclosed room.

Of course, the strangest part was the gray paint covering every trunk. The ashen designs were strange, at some places jagged and angular, at others curving and streamlined. Leon walked up to rest his hand on one of the trunks, but jerked his hand back quickly. The paints was freezing, despite the fact that it was the middle of summer and very warm. Icy, even.

"We don't know what happened," the priest that had first greeted them whispered. "We thought one of the younger acolytes was having a bit of fun, and had mixed all of our black and white paints together. But no one could make such intricate designs overnight, and no one could turn the paint to ice at this time of year."

Leon's father was silent for a long, long time, taking in every inch of the strange patterns on the forest. Finally, he spoke. "Very well. We will return another day.

Leon's head shot up from where he was examining a tiny design on a blade of grass. "But Father, what about-"

"Tradition cannot stand in this world of miracles and oddities," he replied as he turned and walked swiftly out of the forest.

* * *

Three days later, Fluxus changed form very suddenly.

Leon had been training with the captain of the guards in the courtyard when it happened. The man himself was imposing, to say the least, with a foot on Leon's average height and a thick neck corded with muscle. He was at least twice as big as Leon around the chest, if not thrice. There was no way the young lord would be able to out-muscle him, especially considering the captain was prone to swinging a two-handed sword with a single fist the size of a Tepig. No, the only way Leon had ever beaten him before - the few times he _had_ beaten him before - was through speed and cunning.

Fluxus was up against an opponent even more terrifying, the captains' Unfezant. Though of average size, the Flying-type pokemon had a magnificently plumed head, and was incredibly clever. Fluxus himself was very small, being only a Rufflet, so was easily outmatched in the size and strength department.

Leon had been pushed into a metaphorical corner. The captain had learned all his tricks from the several times they had sparred before, and the new ones he was coming up with on the fly were no good. It was all he could do the bat away the man's blade as he swung it at him time and time again.

Finally, their hilts locked, and the captain used his superior height and weight to try to force him to his knees. Leon's boots scrambled against stone, but there was no escape.

Not until Fluxus, coated in a blinding light, tackled the captain away from his Master with a fierce cry. Even as he struck the guard, his wings quadrupled in size, and his face grew longer and more angular. He circled around away from the guard, much more graceful than he had been just minutes before, to land on Leon's shoulders. Leon stumbles under his weight, suddenly so much greater, but managed to keep his balance long enough to glance up at his partner's new form.

"Fluxus! You…changed form?" He stared up at the Braviary on his shoulders, the last bits of light fading away. Fluxus lifted a wing and ran his beak through his feathers, preening in pride.

Within minutes, he was ushered before his father.

It seemed the Howard Skylin had aged years since Leon's sixteenth birthday. Dark circles sagged beneath his eyes, brown as his own, and it looked like he hadn't combed his chestnut hair in quite a while. In fact, there seemed to be a pair of matching gray streaks at his temples that Leon was sure hadn't been there before. However, he didn't comment on his father's haggard appearance. To do so would have been disrespectful.

"Doing a bit of light reading?" he asked instead.

Indeed, the room seemed like it belonged to a scholar rather than a noble. Books were strewn across his father's desk, ranging from heavy tomes to children's story barely more than a few pages long. All of them were old, Leon could see, either because of the worn, yellowing pages, or because they had been transcribed from even older books. Paper was everywhere, with hastily scribbled notes on the front, back, and margins.

As Leon picked up one of the pages to read the writing, his father leaped forward to snatch it away, surprisingly quick despite his apparent exhaustion. For a long moment, the two of them stood frozen, Leon watching his father with his hand half-outstretched, Howard holding the paper close to his body, watching his son.

Finally, his father spoke. "Tell me about the religions of the five regions," he ordered.

Leon stared at his father in bewilderment. What was going on? However, he obediently started to speak.

"There are five known regions in the world, coinciding with the Five Great Kingdoms. They are the Kingdoms of Unova, Sinnoh, Hoenn, Johto, and Kanto. Each has its own religion that most of the people in each region believe in - or, at least, they believe in the ideas behind them. The religions are all distinct, excluding Johto and Kanto."

"Kanto believes very strongly in the elements, and think that everything is built out of them. These elements go along with the typing of pokemon - for example, thunderstorms would be made of the elements water, flying, and lightning. The main elements, they believe, are lightning, fire, and ice, and they have a god to represent each one of these. They believe that these three gods worked together to form everything out of all the elements, and then eventually stored the makeup of everything somewhere. The religion of Johto is virtually identical, except with an emphasis on a god of water and a god of wind, the flying type. However, each is insistent that the other kingdom stole their religion and gave their gods different names, which is one of the many reasons that the kingdoms or Johto and Kanto and almost constantly at war. In truth, the two religions probably sprouted from a single one, but differentiated once the kingdoms split."

"Hoenn also has a strong belief in the elements, but with more of a focus on nature. They believe that every natural thing has a soul and a spirit, so have shrines scattered around the region to these spirits. They think that the world was created by a war between two gods that raised seas and land alike. However, it was calmed by a third god, and all three fell into a deep sleep. They pray that these gods will never rise again, for if they do, they will destroy the world."

"Sinnoh likes the idea that everything was created by a single, omnipotent god. Then, after all His work, He created other gods to rule for Him, everything from time and space, through emotion and all the way down to nothingness. Then, he disappeared, leaving the gods to rule over all he had left behind."

"Finally, there is Unova, most different from all the others since there is so much distance between it and all the other kingdoms. Unova believes very strongly between the divisions between good and evil, right and wrong. There is no gray area in between, only the extremes. However, there might be an entire other world where everything we believe is completely different. The people of Unova believe that there were originally two princes, who were guarded over by a single god. Then, the princes began to quarrel over their differences, and the god, unable to decide who to side with, split itself in two, one to side with the ideals of one prince, the other to follow what the other believed to be the truth, leaving only the empty husk behind."

"Though the five religions are very different, all share some similar stories. The Time of the Great Men is something found in every religion, though each has a different name for the era. It's also worth noting that every major god in these religions is asleep or has mysteriously disappeared, while minor gods may still roam the earth, hidden from sight. There are also stories of minor gods in each religion that make references to major gods in others, such as a supremely powerful pokemon that pulled the regions into place with ropes, then went on to create three images of itself. That pokemon is worshipped as a major god in the region of Sinnoh, while the images themselves are more minor. The opposite is true in Hoenn, where that supremely powerful pokemon is not as important as its three images. Stories like these suggest that the religions of the world were once one, and that each religion was once a single idea, worshipped by all of humanity. It also means that, perhaps at some point in the distant past, all humans might have lived together in one place."

Finally, Leon fell silent, realizing he was falling out of the realm of religion and into the area of history.

His father was watching him very intensely. "Leon, there is something I need to tell you about."

* * *

"_What?_"

"I said you weren't going to like it."

"What matters isn't if I _like_ it or not. It's that what you are doing is _illegal_!"

Leon was raging, steaming, furious. Unable to keep still, he paced from one side of the room to the other. His father watched him, calm, almost as if he didn't realize the severity of what he was doing. What was _wrong_ with him?

"We're supposed to protect these people, the women, the poor, the weak, not throw them into danger!"

"Sometimes the best way to protect a person is to teach them how to protect themselves."

Leon stopped pacing and slammed his hands down on his father's desk. "There is a reason why only noble men can train pokemon, you know!"

Suddenly, as if realizing how he was talking to his father, he took three steps back. Leon took a deep breath and tried to calm himself, to lower his voice, but his fists continued to shake, not only with rage, but with fear. Fear for his father, should someone discover, should something go wrong.

"Women are not able to train pokemon. Though they can befriend them, they do not have the willpower to tame pokemon with changed forms, or even more than one pokemon. The lower classes cannot tame pokemon because they do not go through the stresses of noble life, so do not have the inner strength to bend them to their will. Shortly after the Time of Great Men, women and the poor trained pokemon, and entire cities were decimated when they lost control. Do you want that to happen again?"

Howard's eyes were hard and cold as ice. "I received a letter a few months back from the lord of Nuvema. His son lost control of his pokemon and practically destroyed the castle. Situations like these are becoming more and more common. Not everyone has the ability to control pokemon - that part is true. We used to think it was only noble men who had that power. But, as we are now discovering, we don't. If we were wrong about that, who is to say that women and the poor can't train pokemon? That is the point of Altair. To find these extraordinary people to can befriend pokemon, these incredible people that could save the world as we know it."

"You are sure there is no other way?"

"None. If this disaster is to be averted, we need every warrior we can find."

Finally, Leon hung his head in defeat. "What do you want me to do?"

For the first time since Leon had entered the room, his father smiled. "Excellent. I knew you would see it my way," he said, standing and circling the table to clap him on the shoulder. Then, reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a pendant with a pair of golden wings swinging off the end of the cord. "This is the symbol of Altair, and this pendant belongs to its leader," he said.

Leon took it in his hands, inspecting it. It took him a moment to realize why it looked so familiar. "Father, something so blatant?" he gasped.

"You've been seeing it your entire life, yet it took you several moments to realize what it was. I think it will fool most others. Besides, not many see the symbol in the first place."

Indeed, it was an almost perfect replica of the sigil of Mistralon City. While the banner was red with a golden Braviary with its wings spread in the center, the pendant left out the body of the Braviary, leaving only the outspread wings.

"I want you to wear it."

"Father, you just said this belong to the leader of the Altair Club."

Howard ran a hand through his hair. Once more, Leon's eyes were drawn to the gray streaks in it. "I'm not a young man anymore," he sighed. "Though I still lead Altair in spirit, I do not have the strength to lead them personally anymore. That is why I am sending you there. I need you to lead for me."

"Father…"

"Keep your eyes open. Find people who might be able to train pokemon, and masters willing to teach them. When the time is right, invite them to the Altair Club, and prepare for the upcoming disaster. While you're at it, train yourself. Leave as soon as night falls. Good luck."

Leon knew a dismissal when he heard it. He bowed and turned to leave.

"Oh, and Leon?"

Leon turned back to his father. "Yes?"

"I have a gift for you. Both as a congratulations on Fluxus evolving, and a pathway to get you started training other pokemon."

* * *

"I find it hard to believe that our family own a castle in Sinnoh."

"Chop Ma-chop!" Was Santos' only reply, curled up in the feathers of Fluxus' neck, while Leon was settled right between his wings.

"Father said to fly to Sunyshore, then turn north. An island riddled with caves to the north…We've been flying for almost two hours, and-"

Just as he was about to make a cynical comment, an island, larger than any other they had encountered so far, appeared on the horizon. It appeared to be nothing at first, just a large, mountainous land mass. However, as they swooped down to land on the island, Leon could see caves disappearing into those mountains, and the largest opening down at the top of a large waterfall emptying into the ocean.

As they landed, several people emerged from within the caves and approached him. These had to be the Masters of Altair.

The man who spoke first seemed to be the leader of the group, or at least the one that led while Howard Skylin was away. Leon suddenly had a bad feeling that he would be competing with him for leadership of the group. His hair was short and dark, and a well-groomed beard circled his mouth. A scar ran over his right eye, blue-green in color, cutting through an eyebrow to end on his cheekbone. Leather armor stretched across his chest while a cloak fell over his broad shoulders, fastened by a pin in the shape of a Houndoom's head. A Houndoom, just like the pin, walked behind him.

"You are Leon Skylin of Mistralon?" he asked.

"I am," Leon replied. "And you are?"

"Damien Wolf of Ecruteak," he replied. "We are the Masters of Altair."

And thus the introductions began.

* * *

As the months passed, Leon began to fall into the rhythm of Altair. Much of the work was training himself - through sparring with the other masters, Santos changed form into a Machoke. He also managed to befriend three pokemon within the caves beyond the living area of Altair, a Ledyba, which changed form into a Ledian, named Lance, a Skarmory named Vaiah, and a Ducklett named Riona. He also received a Pikachu as a gift from his father when his seventeenth birthday passed, which he named Evakt.

Life became easier as he began to befriend the other Masters as well. As it turned out, his worries about competing with Damien for the leadership of the club were completely unfounded. If anything, the slight older man seemed almost happy to step aside. On top of that, Leon could put almost any project in front of him, from reading reports from Altair's spies to dealing with a pokemon that was harassing the newer Masters, and he would complete it to near perfection. The man was incredibly reliable, and good at giving advice without being overbearing, which Leon was extremely grateful for. On top of that, he was almost always around the Altair club, having found some sort of excuse to stay away from his family for long periods of time.

Damien's shadow, however, was only at Altair's base sporadically. Emile Abraxas was a squire in service to Nimbasa, so was rarely on that island north of Sunyshore. However, his spy work was excellent, and helped pick out several possibly recruits. Without him, the work of Altair could not be done.

Leon remembered his first impression of Emile. For a moment, he couldn't believe that one so young could be so essential to Altair - indeed, Leon was almost two years older than him. However, the serious look in his orange eyes said that he believed in Altair's cause, and would do anything to help it.

It was amusing to see how much he looked up to Damien, though. Every time Emile was on Altair's island, he would glue himself to Damien's side. Both had a rather strategic nature, so he supposed it made sense.

However, with quiet Damien and serious Emile, Leon was almost glad when they discovered Knight a few weeks after his arrival, passed out in one of the deeper caves. His Eevee, upset and worried about his Master, had found them and practically dragged them down to help him.

Knight was a bit of a curiosity at first. His hair was snow white and seemed like it had never seen a brush, considering that it flew in every direction, except for his bangs, which he was constantly pushing out of his blue eyes. He was lankier than both Damien and himself, but not quite so much as Emile. On top of that, he only had four pokemon, two of which refused to change form, yet still was a major threat on the battlefield. And his _name_. Leon commented on it once when he was frustrated with him, saying that his mother must have been crazy to give him a name like "Knight Heart". Yet, names carried the wishes of the parents who gave them, so perhaps his mother wished for him to be valiant and kind. Besides, who wouldn't recognize the surname "Heart", the royal family of Kanto? Yet Knight never returned home, and the gentle teasing eventually faded away.

Though Leon valued Damien and Emile greatly for their skills and abilities, Knight was probably the first one he began to think of as a "friend". While Damien and Emile were serious - as was Leon himself - Knight was cheerful and friendly, kind to a fault. He was never afraid to laugh at himself, or at others, for that matter, though he would always give them an encouraging word afterwards. It was nice to have someone to relax around, instead of keeping up a constant serious façade.

* * *

It was shortly after he turned eighteen, and also shortly after they began sending out letters to the Trainee hopefuls of Altair, that Leon went to go visit the Lady of Jubilife City.

In all honesty, it was meant to be a trade agreement between their houses - not Altair related, for once. Mistralon would send her flying-type pokemon to help her transport her goods, and in exchange would receive reduced prices for food. After all Jubilife was one of the largest producers of food in the Five Greater Kingdoms.

However, the woman would _not shut up._ Leon was normally polite to ladies, genuinely polite, and when he couldn't manage it, he could feign in very well. This woman, though, was grinding on his last nerve.

"Of course, I appreciate the food they grow us. _I_ certainly wouldn't want to do it. But, my, they do smell terrible, and you can't hold an intelligent conversation with them about fashion for anything," she was saying haughtily.

Leon felt like his head was going to burst with frustration when the herald announced someone. He almost sighed in relief, but that would have been rude.

Strangely enough, Leon did not recognize the man that walked into the room. Normally, he could recognize the name of a noble, if not the face, but this man was unfamiliar. It was only when he saw his drab clothing did he realize the man was a commoner.

The man went on for some length about the trials of his family, what they did for a living, and eventually went on to describe his daughter. Apparently, the girl wanted to be a seamstress for the lady. Finally, he produced a tattered scrap of cloth with an embroidered design on it.

Both Leon and the lady bent over it to inspect it. Leon himself didn't know much about embroidery, but the floral-and-vine pattern was intricate and detailed, very fine work, from what he would see.

The lady, however scoffed. "What is this? A scrap with some sloppy stitches? Tell your daughter that _real_ embroidery isn't done on cheap cloth. If she wants to be a seamstress, tell her to work on _expensive_ cloth." With that, her guards dragged him away.

Leon was on the verge of snapping. Instead, he turned on his heel to follow him out the door.

When the lady called out to him, he turned and smiled, icy cold. "You are rude, unbearable, selfish, and completely unable to understand that the reason you hate these people so much is entirely your fault. There can be no trade agreement between our houses, not so long as one such as yourself rules in Jubilife."

With that, he stormed out of the castle. As soon as he reached the woods just outside of Jubilife, he called out to Fluxus, who was flirtatiously scooting closer and closer to an uncomfortable Vaiah. The Braviary landed before him as he removed a letter from inside his bag.

"A man left the castle just before me. Deliver this to his daughter as soon as she's alone," he ordered. The Braviary took the envelope in his beak and flew off.

It was only when Fluxus had returned that Leon realized the terrible mistake he had made.

* * *

Going back to face the other Masters of Altair was one of the hardest things Leon had ever done. However, he promptly forgot about his dilemma as Emile walked out of the cave, stiff-legged and pale, a look of horror on his face, almost like he had seen a ghost.

"Emile? What happened?" The now-knight just shook his head and turned, walking back inside.

It wasn't long until they found Damien and Knight. All of a sudden, Emile's face twisted into an expression of anger, and he pointed a shaking finger at Damien.

"What happened?" Leon asked again.

"I apologize," Damien replied, though he didn't look all that sorry at all. "I've invited a Trainee to join the Altair Club."

"I…thought that was the point." Leon was very confused.

Finally, Emile seemed to break out of his silent stupor of rage. "We're supposed to discuss who we invite first, to see if we agree that they'll be able to control stronger pokemon!" He threw his hands up into the air.

Now Leon understood Emile's reaction. For once, Damien had done something outside of protocol, something irrational. Something like that was almost like a betrayal of his idolization of Damien.

"You should have seen the fight he had. My family has been looking into a husband for my sister, and brought an Ursaring to Lilycove as a gift for the family's menagerie. However, it got out and went on a rampage. One of the young lord's guard threw himself into a fight with it in an attempt to calm it down. And, you wouldn't believe it - it was _listening_. It went from the Ursaring causing complete chaos to testing the boy to see if it would follow him. And, if we hadn't caged it back up and sent it away afterwards, it probably would have followed him."

"That doesn't _justify_ anything!" Emile raged.

"Actually," Leon interjected, "I have a confession to make. I also sent out a letter to a potential trainee. A commoner who wants to be a seamstress."

Damien shot him a grateful glance, looking almost relieved. "What do you know about her?"

Leon looked down and shuffled his feet. "Uh…"

All of a sudden, Emile's frustration was turned on him. "You don't know _anything_ about this girl and you invited her to join the Altair Club?"

"_I made a mistake_," he growled, pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "I was upset and made a hasty decision. Believe it or not, I am not perfect."

"Everyone, _calm down_," Knight joined the argument. "What's done is done, it can't be changed now. If we need to, we can send them away. For now, let's see what will happened."

For a long time, the room was quiet. Leon brooded over his mistake, and Knight and Damien watched him carefully.

Finally, Emile broke the silence. "I, for one, will continue to follow protocol," he scowled. "I know someone who might be a good addition to the Altair Club."

"Who?" Leon asked quickly, glad to ignore the blame placed on his shoulders for a moment.

"The young lady in Nimbasa."

"Anya Riveras?" Leon asked.

"What?"

"Black hair. Orange eyes. Very short. Round face. Looks a little young," Leon ticked off the traits on his fingers. "That Anya Riveras?"

"That's her. How do you know her?"

"There's only Driftveil's lands between Mistralon and Nimbasa. Our families were sure to brush from time to time," he explained. "I'd never thought of her as a candidate. Why her?"

"She has the drive; trust me. If you don't believe me, send someone to confirm it."

"Very well," Leon sighed. "Damien, would you?"

"Of course."

The look on Emile's face was almost devilish, despite his normal seriousness. "I have the perfect disguise."

* * *

When Damien returned, he looked like he had been through a war zone. His face and arms seemed to be covered in red dye, to the point where Leon had thought he had contracted leprosy when he first saw him. His clothes - all of them - were covered in spots of pink dye.

"What in the world ha - Nevermind. I don't want to know. How did it go?" Leon asked, trying not to stare.

"She'll do very well here," he replied absent mindedly, pulling clothes from his trunk, all of them covered in the same dye. "Clever, conniving little bitch," Leon heard him grumble under his breath.

"You'd better find a way to wash the color out of your face and clothes," he told him. "We've caught almost all of the second pokemon for our new Trainees. They arrive in one month."

* * *

**A/N:** I think this is the part where I scream I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY really loudly a million times. Well, I am. I know it's been a while, but college is busy. Regular updates are not really an option anymore, though I will still aim for once every two weeks.

I want to thank everyone who PM'd me asking if I was still doing this. It lets me know that people are really interested in it, and I really appreciate it. ^^

I also want to officially dedicate this chapter to Leon's creator. I mean, it sort of already is, because Leon's the featured character, but I mean really, because there's so many things about him that work so ridiculously perfectly with this story. I mean, it happens with other characters too, but not quite to the extent that it happens with Leon. I can't even describe it without giving stuff away, but it's a really, really cool feeling.

I've decided to shut up about how much I hate my writing because...I don't. I really don't. Well, I hate it right after I write it. But I was going back and reading through Anya's chapter and editing it a bit earlier today and, while I don't think it's something that screams "PUBLISH ME!", it's certainly not bad. It's kind of good, actually. Of course, I think that's my favorite chapter so far, because it's my character, but minor details.

This is the last chapter that OCs will be accepted. Get 'em in! I think I need girls most right now. Any kind of girls.

Uh...Two comments on this chapter. First of all, I award a plate of steaming internet cookies to anyone who can figure out what Damien's disguise was. Actually, it's not that difficult to figure out, but still. Also, though I didn't mean to write it until I, uh, wrote it, I really like the bromantic quality to Leon's and Knight's friendship. Random, but still.

By the way, I think I'm going to start a collab fic. I've already got someone I'm working with, unless they bail on me. (Sorry.) But it centers around fakemon and the Zodiac. It's SYOC, so I'm going to put up a character form on my forum in a few days, if any of you would be interested in getting an OC in. The link to the forum can be found at the bottom of my profile.

Again, sorry for the lateness of this.

~Ami


	6. Chapter 6

Considering it was the middle of a moonless night, it was no surprise to Dagan when the rowboat appeared out of nowhere.

A cloaked figure stood and carefully made his way onto the shore. "Are you Dagan?"

"Yes," Dagan replied.

"My name is Emile. I'm a Master in Altair. I'll be taking you there. Get in the boat." Without another word, the figure turned on his heel and stepped back into the rowboat, taking his seat between the two oars.

Dagan carefully followed him, a little unsteady on the boat. Even though he had spent several days on a boat to travel from Hoenn to Sinnoh, the sea was not something the young man was used to. The space at the front of the boat (the prow, he thought it was called) was taken by a small figure, while the back was taken by Emile at the oars. There was only a single seat in the middle, long enough to fit two people, if they squeezed together. Unfortunately, there was a third man there, sitting in the exact center on the bench. For a moment, Dagan stood there awkwardly, trying to figure out if he should ask the other man to move or if he should just sit down in the bottom of the boat.

Aria decided for him. The little Poochyena leaped into the bottom of the boat from the shore, then onto the bench to chomp none too gently on the man's wrist. The man yelped, withdrawing his hand very suddenly, and Aria let go of it, if reluctantly.

The movement of the man's arm disturbed a sleeping bundle on his lap. The pokemon opened its golden eyes and glared at Aria, growling menacingly. Aria, being the spunky, ferocious thing that she was, growled right back.

"No, Aria," Dagan scolded, scooping her up under his arm. "Be nice," he told her as she continued to snarl.

"Sorry about that," he apologized to the man. "Aria's a little…scrappy."

"I might forgive you if you fight me." When the man tilted his hooded face up, Dagan caught a glimpse of brown eyes and white teeth as he grinned.

"Will you two _shut up_ and _sit down_? I'd like to get there before dawn." The impatient hiss came from the figure sitting at the prow of the boat. Dagan noted that he must be pretty young, since his voice was still high and didn't have any of the cracking that was the hallmark of puberty.

The man in the middle grumbled but reluctantly scooted over, giving Dagan room sit. The pokemon - A Shinx, it seemed - purposely turned away from him before plopping himself down in his master's lap, and, in all appearances, went back to sleep.

As the boat began to move, Dagan surveyed his companions. After all, these would be the people he would be training with for the next year. It couldn't hurt to get to know those who would be his companions and rivals.

Easier said than done with the hood covering everyone else's faces. The man rowing the boat - Emile, the Master - was the tallest out of all of them. His knees were slightly bent, but his feet would still occasionally nudge the back of the bench he was sitting on. He seemed fairly lanky.

The next tallest would be the man sitting next to him. His wide shoulders - and the muscular forearm that draped across the edge of the small boat - suggested that he was fairly strong physically, like Dagan himself.

Then, there was the boy sitting across from him at the prow of the boat. Though it was difficult to tell while he was sitting down - not to mention it was the dead of night - Dagan thought he was fairly short. A small ball of fur was curled up in his lap. After a few moments, it shifted and gave an exhale. The boy reached out and gently stroked the creature's sides, and the pokemon - revealed to be a Purrloin - shifted onto it's back, allowing the boy to gently stroke it's soft stomach.

_It must trust him a lot to let him pet its stomach_, Dagan though. The stomach was the most vulnerable part of many pokemon, and only those with a deep trust for their companions would allow them to stroke the vulnerable parts of their bodies like the boy was doing now. Even Aria wouldn't let him rub her belly unless he pinned her - then again, Aria wasn't keen on seeming vulnerable to anyone. Dagan noted that the boy also had very small, delicate hands, with long, graceful fingers and an unscarred palm. The boy was probably even younger than Dagan had originally thought him to be. _Will Altair train those as young as this boy?_

Eventually, he couldn't contain his curiosity. "Are you going to join Altair as well, little boy?"

The boy's immediate reaction was to tear off his hood and hiss, "I am a _woman_, you damned fool!"

Dagan's words reduced to inelegant stutters. "Guuuuuuuuhhhhh….Uh, um, ah…B-but…I-I-I-…Y-you…Uuuuuuuuummmmm…"

He - _she_, he corrected himself - continued to glare. "And I'm not _little_," she huffed. "I happen to be twenty years old, lackwit."

Dagan was slowly - sloooooowly - regaining his capacity to think. The woman's voice was low for a girl, though still high by men's standards. It wasn't difficult, if he closed his eyes, to mistake her voice for that of a pre-pubescent boy. Her small hands were not clumsily boyish, but had the feminine grace that only a person who had exited the most awkward part of their teens could obtain. She was also wearing men's clothes - though, now that he was looking closely, he could see the slight, soft curve of her body underneath her tunic.

"_Ahem_." Thanks to the helpful cough of the man next to him, Dagan realized that he had been staring very intently at the woman's chest. He raised his eyes to her face to meet her gaze - or, at least, to try to. The woman's eyes were orange, and burned like fire with fury. Apparently, she had noticed him observing her figure, adding to her original rage. For a moment, Dagan was sure she was leap across the boat and throw him overboard.

His eyes immediately fell back to his hands in his lap, and his speech was reduced to embarrassed stutters once more - though, thankfully, he could make himself understood this time. "I d-didn't mean to, miss. I-I just, i-it was dark, and I d-didn't see, and y-you were wearing a cloak…" Dagan babbled before cutting himself off, realizing he making a fool of himself - though, they probably already thought he was a fool.

It was silent for a good, long while before the woman heaved a great sigh. "Fine, fine. It was a mistake. Normally, I'd hold you to it, but, as you said, it's dark. Besides, I'm in a forgiving mood. It wouldn't be right to make enemies before even getting there."

Slowly, Dagan raised his eyes to the woman's. The flames of rage had died down, though the orange orbs still seemed to burn slightly in the darkness. Her hair was dark - black, he thought, though it was hard to tell in the blackness of the night, and fell in waves down her back. Her widow's peak emphasized the heart-shaped, rounded quality of her feminine face.

"Sorry, miss," he gave a shaky smile. "I wouldn't have thought you a boy if I could have seen your face. Or if it was lighter," he told her honestly.

The woman's mouth quirked up slightly on the right side in a slight smile. "It's nice to see _some_ people know how to own up to their mistakes," she said, "But it won't do to have you calling me 'miss' all the time. I am-"

"No titles, no surnames," Emile interjected quickly from behind him.

The woman's scowl and glare was back. Dagan thanked every god he could think of that he wasn't on the receiving end this time.

"And whyever _not_?"

"The point of Altair is to put all - women, men, commoners, nobles - on equal footing. Titles will only create feelings of superiority and inferiority, and surnames will reveal social standings." Emile explained.

The woman glowered, but heaved a sigh and shot an exasperated glance at Dagan. "Very well. I'm Anya." She extended a hand. Dagan stared at her palm for a moment, wondering what he was supposed to do with it. It wasn't until he heard Emile grumble "Old habits die hard," that he realized she was waiting for him to kiss her fingertips. _A lady, then_.

Thankfully, Aria decided that was the moment to make her presence known. She wriggled out of Dagan's grip and darted to stand on his knees, reaching out her neck to snuffle warily at the stranger's fingertips. Anya looked surprised, but then chuckled a little, reaching out to scratch the Poochyena behind her ears. Though the pokemon flinched away at first, the woman quickly found a sensitive spot, and Aria all but melted into the woman's hand, giving a happy growl.

"Sorry," Dagan apologized again. "She doesn't like being left out. This is Aria." His eyes strayed to the Purrloin in her lap, still resting on its back, watching him with lazy green eyes. "And who's this?" he questioned, reaching out to the Dark-type pokemon.

Immediately, the Purrloin was on its paws, her claws out and dug into Anya's thighs. The woman get a slight yelp, while the pokemon pressed its ears flat against its head and hissed.

"Be _nice_, Pandora," Anya scolded, trying dislodge the pokemon's claws from her breeches. "Sorry about her," she shot Dagan an apologetic glance. "She's extremely wary of new people. Go slowly; let her come to you."

So, like Anya, Dagan just extended his hand to the pokemon and waited. For a moment, the Purrloin - Pandora, he thought Anya called her - just curled up closer to her master's stomach and growled. Then, when he didn't move, she slowly, carefully emerged to sniff at his fingers, watching him the whole time. Then, slowly, she rubbed her cheek against his fingers, and Dagan took that as a cue that it was all right to pet her. Soon enough, the pokemon was purring up a storm as he scratched under her chin.

"I'm Dagan," he finally introduced himself. "And sorry for mistaking you for a boy. I wouldn't have done it under any other circumstances, honest," he promised.

"I would have." The man sitting next to Dagan finally pulled back his hood. He was an older man - older than Dagan was, anyways, and probably a little older than Anya - with shaggy brown hair that hung in his brown eyes. His tan skin made his teeth seem very white when he smiled.

"The name's Aaron," he introduced himself quickly. "How do we know you're not a very feminine-looking boy? You have no curves!"

When he glanced back at Anya, her expression mirrored his own - jaws hung open, eyes wide with shock.

Then, the glare that he was quickly learning to fear returned.

"EXCUSE ME?"

It was going to be a long trip.

* * *

That night seemed to pass by in a blur to Anya. She barely remembered Emile dropping her off at her new room, and had no idea how she had managed to change into a nightgown.

It was a strange thing to be wearing men's clothes now. Emile had managed to procure a few shirt, tunics, and breeches in her size - truly a wonder - as well as a pair of boots. He promised she would get used to it soon; Anya hoped he was right. It would be difficult to train if she was still uncomfortable in her own clothes.

Now that she was fully awake, rather than just stumbling around, she had a chance to admire the island where the main base of Altair resided. The isle itself was nothing remarkable, barely more than crags of rock jutting out of the water. The inside was riddled with caves and tunnels, where wild pokemon would normally reside. However, years before, Altair had gone through and renovated many of the caves. Though the original tunnel appeared no different than she would have expected, further in, the caves were squared off like rooms, and even had rugs covering the ground. The rooms even had doors! If Anya didn't know any better, she would have said she was inside a typical castle. Whoever had created this place was truly an architectural genius, to transform natural caves into a place where humans could live.

The Great Hall, too, looked like something out of her castle back home. It had probably been made out of one of the largest caves in the entire system - that, or several smaller caves. She had to admit, she was impressed with the way that a tier of rock had been carved to look like a balcony - railing and all, with a stairway leading down to the ground level. Several fires burned in hearths dotting the walls, giving the room a warm, cozy feeling.

It appeared she was not the first one in the room. In fact, she was probably one of the last people in the room, judging by the fifty or so others milling around the room. She recognized the golden, wing-shaped pins on the breasts of some of the men - the symbol the marked them as Masters of Altair. All in all, it looked like there were about thirty Trainees in the room, and fifteen or twenty Masters.

These would be the people she would be living and training with for the next year, engaging in one of the most illegal acts throughout the Five Kingdoms. Gently, she reached up to scratch Pandora behind the ears. The feline pokemon was currently wrapped around her neck, her back paws hanging over her right shoulder and her front paws and head rested on her left. The Dark-type pokemon watched the people around her with slitted green eyes, not missing a thing.

So, of course, it was no surprise when Pandora was the first to notice the commotion going on in the crowd, her ears and eyes turning toward the chaos.

"Well _excuse_ me! I thought the point of Altair was to put us all on equal footing," an indignant voice harrumphed.

Anya, following her ears, soon found the four people in the middle of an argument - or a battle, more like it. The first was a woman, about Anya's age. Her fiery hair, distinctive in the room full of blacks and reds, was pulled up in a bun, not a crimson hair out of place. She was short, though not so much as Anya herself, and had a fairly muscular frame for a woman. Her blue eyes flashed angrily at the three people in front of her. It appeared she was the one that had yelled out her indignation but a moment before. A Trapinch stood in front of her, which in itself was odd. Dragon-type pokemon - or pokemon that evolved into Dragon-type pokemon, in this case - were rarely allowed to women and commoners, due to the fact that they were so strong even before they evolved. The ground in front of it looked like it had been torn up and displaced.

The two women who stood across from her looked like they had the fright of their lives. One stood behind the other, gripping her arm and almost hiding behind her. She was another redhead, with her hair tied in a braid down her back. Her skin was fairly tan, considering how fair the few redheads of the world were. Her green eyes were wide with fear, and she clutched a Teddiursa to her chest. The pokemon was trying desperately to get away, presumably to fight the Trapinch.

The other girl also looked quite spooked, though she was trying to put on a brave front. She was also taller than Anya - she should probably just assume she was going to be the shortest person there - but taller than the red-haired woman with the Trapinch. Her brown hair seemed to have tints of red in it, and was pulled out of her face in a ponytail. Her pokemon was a Turtwig, protectively in front of her.

The final person was a Master, shown by the golden wings pinned into his cloak, and stood between the two parties, facing the red-haired woman with the Trapinch. His hair, of all things, was _white_ - who had white hair? His eyes were blue and friendly, despite the fact that he was in the middle of an argument. He appeared to be doing his best to soothe ruffled feathers. He was actually sitting between the wings of a Pidgeot, and an Eevee was balanced precariously on his shoulder.

"I'm sure we can work this out if you just-" he started, but was cut off by the red-haired woman.

"You're telling me we should _work this out_?" the woman huffed. "The point of Altair is to learn how to fight. So when I start one, I get in trouble? Unbelievable!"

"The point of Altair," the Master said, "Is to teach you how to fight when you need to, _not_ to get into stupid fights with your allies."

The woman just glowered.

"Anya, I have to leave." Emile's voice dragged Anya out of watching the scene unfold. He had snuck up behind her while she was distracted.

It took her a moment to process his words. "_What_?"

The knight just blinked. "I have to leave."

"You're just going to _leave _me here? I thought you're a Master of Altair! You're supposed to be training me!"

"I am, but being a Master isn't about training others. It's about scouting the world looking for new people to train and looking for…Ah, other things. I'll be back in a few weeks." He cut himself off at the last one.

Anya could think of a million arguments for why he should stay - like her parents ordering him to protect her. In the end though, what it boiled down to was that she didn't _want_ him to leave. Over the weeks they had traveled together, Anya had grown to see Emile Abraxas as a friend - or, at least, almost a friend.

But she couldn't let him see her act like a spoiled child. She couldn't tell him that him suddenly up and leaving without any kind of warning felt like a betrayal - something she had become all too familiar with recently. She couldn't tell him that she was almost afraid to be left with all of these strangers. Her pride wouldn't let her.

So, instead she turned away from him, crossed her arms over her chest, and stuck her nose up in the air. "You're leaving? Why should I care? I don't care. Good bye."

"Anya, don't-"

"Have a nice trip, Emile," she said primly before proceeding to ignore him.

She could hear him heave a sigh behind her, and a rustle of cloth that she assumed meant he was leaving. However, instead of walking away, he grabbed her arm and dragged her forward toward the commotion, which had now settled down. The Pidgeot had landed and the Master had dismounted. The two girls and their pokemon had edged forward, listening to the white-haired man. The other girl was still glowering, but was slowly calming down.

"Knight!" Emile called, and the white-haired man - Knight, presumably - looked up.

"Yes, Emile?" he asked. "What can I help you with?"

"Can you keep an eye on Anya while I'm away? She's just hard-headed enough to cause problems out of pure stubbornness, and just reckless enough to get into serious trouble. Her family will be unhappy with me if she comes back injured, or worse, even more troublesome than she is now."

Anya's mouth dropped open in mortification. She hadn't wanted Emile to leave - that was true. But that didn't mean she wanted to be passed off from one caretaker to another like a child!

Knight smiled down at her. "Of course. I'd be happy to look after her while you're away," he said kindly.

Anya's mind, however, interpreted the kind tone as a condescending one, and her embarrassment quickly turned to irritation. She suddenly had the very unladylike urge to punch him in the face.

Instead, she violently jerked her arm out of Emile's grip. "I'll get in as much trouble and cause as many problems as I damned well please!" she cried indignantly. She glared at Knight. "I do _not_ need a keeper," she hissed at him.

The red-haired woman with the Trapinch had suddenly found an excuse to keep fighting. "You can't give orders!" she said, linking arms with Anya. "You may be a Master, but that doesn't mean you own us." She shot Anya a conspiratorial glance. "Men, huh?" she rolled her eyes.

Anya found herself liking this woman. "Men," she agreed.

Knight, however, looked lost, unsure of what to do now that these two strong-willed women had teamed up. Emile was grinning from ear to ear - it seemed that even he could crack a smile in a situation like this. "Good luck," he said, clapping Knight on the shoulder before abandoning him to his sad - and probably painful - fate.

"Well, _Master_," the red-haired woman raised an eyebrow, emphasizing the title, "Is there something you wanted to say to us?"

For a moment, Knight looked like he was at a loss of what to do. The emergence of a man onto the balcony, however, saved him. "Time for the opening speech! I must go," he said, quickly excusing himself to hop back onto his Pidgeot. The Flying-type pokemon beat its wings once, twice to get airborn before swooping up to the balcony.

"Humph! I can't believe he tried to tell you what to do like that," the woman, her arm still intertwined with Anya's, grumbled.

"I probably could have taken him by myself," Anya told her, "But thank you either way."

"No, thank _you_," she insisted. "He broke up my fight before. I'm just itching to go at him. My name is Luxandra, by the way. Call me Lux. This is Khione," she said, indicating the Trapinch at her feet.

"Anya and Pandora," she introduced herself, reaching up to scratch Pandora behind the ears once more.

"Anya, I have a feeling you and I are about to enter a _beautiful_ friendship."

"As do I," Anya smiled back, squeezing their intertwined arms.

"By the way," Luxandra peered around Anya at the other two girls, "No hard feelings about earlier. I'm ready to learn to train pokemon and _might_ have gotten a _little_ ahead of myself. Lux and Khione, Anya and Pandora." She indicated each person and pokemon as they were introduced.

"Um, that's okay," the brown-haired girl said. "My name's Roselle. This is Turtwig."

"Lucy and Theo," the girl with the red braid and the Teddiursa whispered.

"Turtwig? You didn't name it?" Anya asked.

"Turtwig has a name. I just don't know it. The day he deigns to tell me what it is, I'll start calling him that," Roselle said matter-of-factly.

Anya was going to comment on the oddity of that, but was interrupted by the man on the balcony, who began to speak.

When she looked up at him, she confronted by none other than Leon Victor Skylin. _He's a part of Altair?_

She tuned out his speech, fairly shocked by the fact that he was here. The two didn't know each other well, but considering that they lived not only in the same kingdom but were practically neighbors, it was inevitable that they would see each other occasionally. She never would have expected a straight-laced family like the Skylins to have a part in this.

She was jolted out of her thoughts at the end of his speech.

"As new Trainees of Altair, we will also give you a second pokemon, along with your original partner, to get you started. Each of these pokemon have been specifically picked for you based on your personalities and past experiences. We hope they'll help you grow as people - and, maybe, you can help them grow a little as well. We'll do that now."

And, sure enough, Masters began to leave and return with pokemon. Luxandra squealed at the sight of a Sentret - considering that she cried out a name and it came running, Anya assumed they knew each other. Lucy was awarded with a Mudkip. Across the room, she could see Dagan greeting a Machop, and the annoying Aaron patting a reluctant Absol on the head. Where was hers?

"Hello." Anya whirled to find Leon, who had snuck up behind her.

She glared at him. "Leon."

"Anya," he replied pleasantly.

"Do you mind telling me what you're doing here?"

"Don't you want your pokemon?"

All questions about Leon's involvement with Altair flew out the window. "About time. Where is it?"

Leon shifted a little, looking almost uncomfortable. "Ah, about that. He's a little…wary. I didn't really want to introduce you in a room full of new people. I'll take you to him."

Leon led her down a series of hallways, taking turns seemingly at random. Anya didn't know how she would ever memorize the layout of the place.

While they walked, Leon spoke. "He can be a little…difficult, but we thought he would be a good match."

"Did you pick him for me because I'm difficult as well?" Anya asked, more amused than unhappy.

Leon either didn't hear her or pretended not to. Anya suspected the latter. "The thing is…Well, many people want a pokemon like him. But it seems that - Oh, here we are." Leon stopped in front of a door - the same kind of door they had been passed several times over further back in the hallway - and opened it.

_I've heard there's one with golden fur running around the region…_

Anya shoved away the memory, locking it away in the furthest corner of her mind. But how could she, when a Vulpix with bright golden fur sat in the middle of the room?"

"As I said, many people have wanted him because of his shiny fur," Leon said. Pandora leaped off Anya's shoulder to go stand in front of the Fire-type pokemon, inspecting him in that lazy way of hers. The Vulpix glared but did not move from his spot.

"The thing is, horrible things seem to keep happening to his owners. People seem to think he's bad luck, so throw him out."

All of a sudden, Anya understood why she was given this pokemon. He had been taken in time and time again; fed, sheltered, and loved. Then, he would suddenly be thrown out by those he trusted most, the people who he thought had _loved_ him, and who he loved in return.

She dropped to her knees to reach own to him, but the pokemon pulled back his lips and snarled. A low growl emanated from within his chest.

At that moment, Pandora acted, raising a paw and smacking his nose. Her claws weren't extended, and she didn't strike him very hard, but the Vulpix was so shocked, he stopped growling and just stared at the Purrloin, who glared as if to say _Don't threaten my master!_

"It's all right," Anya crooned over him. She forced the pain of old memories out of her voice. She wouldn't appear weak in front of Leon! Instead, she slowly reached out to stroke his ears. The pokemon did not lean into it, but did not flinch away either. He just sat there, stiff. "We're the same, you and I," she whispered at him.

Leon had been silent throughout the entire encounter, excluding a snort of laughter when Pandora had scolded him. Now, he spoke. "We should probably get going back to the others. Are you going to name him?"

"I will. I'll think about a name later," Anya said, uncharacteristically quiet. Pandora crawled into her arms and onto her shoulders. She extended her arms to the Vulpix, but he refused, still not trusting her. She didn't blame him; she wouldn't trust her yet either. Instead, he trotted out of the room and waited for them to leave.

The only thing Anya could think about on the way back was her brother. How kind he used to be, the trouble they used to get in and out of, how he would playfully ruffle her hair and call her "sister dear". She barely acknowledged Luxandra, who congratulated her on the new pokemon. All she wanted to do was go back into her room and curl up and wallow in old memories

Her exhaustion and sadness was quickly erased and replaced by rage and fear, however, when _he_ walked into the room.

* * *

Roselle stared in wonder at the Starly perched on her arm. The pokemon seemed equally fascinated with her, with her head quirked slightly to the side.

"Hello, Starly," she breathed. "I guess we're going to be partners from now on."

The Starly gave a cheep of acknowledgement. Turtwig rested his feet against her knees, trying to get better look at the newest addition to their team.

Their introductions were interrupted, however, by a man calling for their attention atop the balcony. "My name is Damien," he introduced himself. "I need everyone to get where they can see one of these books."

Each of the Masters was armed with a copy of the thick book that Damien was currently holding up in the air. Roselle found herself standing next to Knight, the Master who had saved them when Luxandra had suddenly attacked earlier that morning. Lucy stood on his other side, and he smiled at both of them.

"These books contain every pokemon currently known to man," Damien said. "Each pokemon has exactly one page, and on that page is every attack that pokemon could possibly learn."

"For example," called another voice from the center of the room. This one came from Leon, the one who had been giving the opening speech. "Riona, come here."

For a moment, Roselle wondered who Riona was. Then, with an undignified squawk, a Ducklett half-flew, half-fell from the balcony to land on Leon's outstretched arm. Leon grumbled something that Roselle didn't catch before saying, "Riona, fly up and use Bubblebeam!"

The command was like a trigger for the pokemon. The little Ducklett, right on command, flew up into the air above the new Trainees, opened its beak, and released a spew of bubbles.

"Attacks like these can be used to hurt an opponent," Damien explained. "On each page, there are two columns of attacks. The first column is made up of moves that the pokemon learns naturally, more or less in order by how strong the pokemon needs to be to learn it. The Masters with you will assess approximately how strong your pokemon are and show you how far down the list they are. The second column is for learned moves. Some pokemon know certain moves because their parents knew them, and some can learn special moves my watching another pokemon perform them. You will have to memorize every move on these lists for each of your pokemon, so you can pick the perfect move sets for them."

Roselle struggled with the words on the page. She could read, but not very well. In fact, she was probably the worst reader in the room! Still, when she glanced across, Lucy was looking at the page for "Teddiursa" studiously. She didn't want to interrupt!

Thankfully, someone else did not her. "Excuse me," a boy working with a nearby Master interjected. She thought his name was Dagan. "I can't read," he said bluntly.

For a moment, the room was silent. Then, Lucy, looking sheepish, whispered, "Me either."

Leon heaved a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "How many of you cannot read at all? Raise your hands."

About three quarters of the hands in the room were raised.

"Right, then. We'll start teaching you to read later today. Those that can read will have to help those that can't."

Roselle turned to find Lucy staring at her with wide, expectant green eyes.

* * *

"Of all the _ridiculous_ things to forget, it had to be _this_!"

Leon, Knight, and Damien were meeting while the other Masters taught the Trainees their letters. Leon paced back and forth like a caged Luxray, frustrated and angry that he had forgotten something as simple as this.

"I must be the most idiotic, stupid, brainless, mentally deficient, foolish, thick-headed, dim-witted - OW!" In his fury, he kicked the stone wall - a stupid decision. He hopped over to a chair and sat heavily into it, rubbing his foot and grumbling the whole time.

Finally, Knight decided to cut him off. "It was a simple mistake. Anyone could have made it. We'll just have to continue tomorrow."

"It's not a simple mistake! We've been set back weeks. _Months_!"

"Don't be melodramatic," Damien stopped him. "We'll add reading lessons to combat class for those that need it, and just have them memorize possible moves by telling them for now. It's a setback, but it's not as much of a problem as you're making it out to be."

Leon was going to start his rant again, but was stopped by the door opening and Anya marching in. "I need to talk to Leon about-" She cut herself off when she saw Knight and Damien were with him. She seemed not to know what to do now that she was here. Instead, she focused on her hands, fiddling with the hem of her tunic.

"Anya? Aren't you supposed to be in reading lessons?" Leon asked, rubbing him temples. He didn't want to deal with the strong-tempered young woman with a migraine coming on.

"I already know how to read," she snapped. Her orange eyes darted from side to side, trying to find a place to look.

"Ah…Did you need something?"

She was silent, still fiddling with the hem of her tunic, eyes shifting nervously. It was strange to see her at a loss for what to do.

Finally, she seemed to find her resolve, and her face hardened. Her eyes, the usual spark returned, met his, and she lifted a slightly shaking hand to point an accusatory finger at Damien, of all people.

"I want to know why a _degenerate pervert_ is a Master of Altair."

* * *

**Our Cast:**

**Lady Anya Riveras of Nimbasa (20) - **A friendly but fierce young woman with some serious trust issues. She's kind to her friends, but has a serious temper. Despite her sassy, bossy nature, she's loyal and brave, and surprisingly intelligent. Pokemon: Purrloin, Vulpix.

**Roselle Monroe of Jubilife (16) - **A pretty quiet girl with the strange belief that everyone - men, women, commoners, nobles, pokemon - are equal. She's a little shy, but is friendly and bright once you get her talking. Pokemon: Turtwig, Starly.

**Dagan Talbot of Lilycove (16) - **A solemn young man who doesn't talk much. He's not too bright - much better at solving things with his fists than with his wits - and a little naive. However, he's incredible loyal, and won't leave one of his friends hanging. Pokemon: Poochyena, Machop.

**Lord Leon Victor Skylin of Mistralon (18) - **A kind young man with a strong sense of right and wrong. He was raised on the principles of chivalry, like a knight, and follows them no matter what. He's still learning how to be a leader. Pokemon: Braviary, Machoke, Ledian, Skarmory, Pikachu, Ducklett.

**Princess Luxandra Swiverland II of Lavaridge (19) - **A passionate woman who can be a little hard to get along with at times. She's a little spoiled and very manipulative, and hates it when men try to boss her around. Pokemon: Trapinch, Sentret.

**Lucy Haddock of Solaceon (16) - **A shy young lady who's a little klutzy at times. She lacks self-confidence, but is a loyal, kind, and intelligent person. Pokemon: Teddiursa, Mudkip.

**Aaron Hunt of Eterna (22) - **A calm and aloof hunter with a snarky and sarcastic side. He's pretty distant, but underneath his bad attitude, he has a heart of gold...Right? ...Right? Pokemon: Shinx, Absol.

**Sir Emile Abraxas of Nimbasa (16) - **A gloomy loner with few friends. He's very confident in himself and abilities, with good reason. Pokemon: Shuppet, Zoroark, Espeon, Umbreon.

**Prince Knight Heart of Viridian (17) - **A perceptive, kind man who dislikes fighting, but who isn't afraid to speak up if he sees something he thinks is wrong. He's also pretty intelligent. Pokemon: Pidgeot, Totodile, Eevee, Haxorus.

**Lord Damien Orion Wolf of Ecruteak (21) - **A serious strategist with no desire to be a political leader, despite his obvious talent for it, and instead has his focus in the military. He doesn't have much of a sense of humor, but has a strict code of honor. Pokemon: Houndoom, Bastiodon, Froslass, Electivire, Ludicolo, Xatu.

* * *

**A/N:** Aaaaand those are the people who are going to be in Altair. I received so many great characters, but these are the ones that made it. Sorry to those that didn't get in.

I'll start with the important stuff, before you all get bored and ignore the Author's Note. I have had a request from someone to write a Altair spin-off one-shot. (Read: A fanfiction of this fanfiction.) I told them I was fine with it, but thought I should mention something: If you do not want your character being used elsewhere, **please say something now**. I will ensure they are not used in any spin-offs or whatever.

By the way, once I've got okays from everyone who has characters in this, feel free to draw fanart/write fanfiction if you. I'd appreciate it if you would let me know, though, and make sure you credit me and the original owners for the idea/characters.

So...Lux and Anya seem to have formed a Bitch Brigade. Hooray! 8D And apparently Damien is a creeper and a stalker. Has anyone guessed what he was disguised at yet?

In other news, this story recently hit 1,000 views, and I'm about to hit 1,000 profile page views! Hooray! I've been considering doing some kind of question-and-answer truth-or-dare thing at big milestones for this story. Basically, you would send me questions or request, no matter how ridiculous or out-of-character, and the characters would be forced to do them! Feel free to start sending those is - and you can send in more than one question/dare. I'll just pick my favorites. It'll be a nice break from how serious this story will get in the future. I'll do the first one at 100 reviews.

Also, from now on, if your character does not appear for three or four chapters without explanation, please say something. I tend to be forgetful. However, there are characters that I will intentionally make disappear - Emile, for example. He's going to be off doing plot-important things for the next few chapters.

And I feel like this story needs a cover, rather than just my profile pic. So if anyone happens to see something that works, let me know.

By the way, Zodiac is on. If you want a character, say something. I'm also thinking about doing an original SYOC fic based off of "Little Red Riding Hood" to be posted on fictionpress. It'll probably be on the mental level of Twilight, and the amount of plot will also be on the level of Twilight, but it's more of something fun for me to write than something serious. If you're interested, let me know too. And in case you're wondering, yes. Yes, I have had a sudden inspiration to write a lot lately.

Uh...I think that was everything. I should probably go start those three essays that are due tomorrow.

~Ami


	7. Chapter 7

_He had been her seventh - and final, though she hadn't known it at the time - suitor._

_Anya was beginning to tire of all the men her parents were throwing toward her, she truly was. Though the first one or two had been fine - handsome, kind, excellent lineage - recently, the young lady had noticed a startling downturn in the quality of her suitors. It seemed that every one that visited her was worst than the last. The last two had not only been homely, but at least thirty years older than her. They all had good lineage, of course, and piles of gold and silver, but they had spoken to her cruelly, or, in one case, had kicked Pandora when she wandered up curiously. Anya made sure he received an especially vicious prank._

_In truth, she was almost glad for the drop in quality. With her original suitors, it was difficult to reject them, to be unkind to them, because they were so kind themselves. It made it easier to punish her admirers if they were horrible people._

_So she was a bit surprised when she first was introduced to Lord Damien Orion Wolf, the second son of the Lord of Ecruteak._

_He wasn't old, like she was expecting, especially considering the increasing age of her suitors as of late. In fact, he was only a year older than her._

_And he wasn't ugly. He wasn't mouth-wateringly handsome, either, but it certainly wasn't hard for Anya to appreciate his appearance. His black hair was trimmed close to his head, as well as his beard. He was taller than Anya - no surprise there - and had a lean yet muscular figure. Anya thought his eyes were a beautiful color, despite his overall average appearance - somewhere between blue and green._

_Her mother coughed slightly and glared at her. Anya realized how brazen she was being, looking him straight in the eyes, unafraid, instead of keeping her eyes trained on the ground like a well-behaved lately._

_Honestly, she didn't care about how rude she was being, but she might as well pretend to play nice. So, she dipped into a curtsy, though no lower and for no longer than was proper._

_When she rose, she gave him a very fake smile, meeting his eyes once more despite the agitated noise her mother made. "Shall we adjourn to the dining hall, my lord?" she asked with feigned politeness. "My father has thrown a feast in your honor."_

_For a moment, the lord just observed her, a slight smile playing across his lips, softening up his hard, serious mouth. "The honor is all mine, Lady Anya," he replied, offering his arm to her._

_It took her only a second to recognize the mocking tone buried under layers of courtesy. Her mouth nearly fell open in shock when she realized he had recognized her falsity, and was replying in his own way. She managed to stifle a grin. Finally, a worthy opponent._

_However, her mother pulled her away just before she took his arm. "Please go ahead, Lord Wolf," she murmured. "One of the servants will show you the way to the Great Hall. I must speak with my daughter before supper." Damien Wolf nodded and left._

_Lady Josephine whirled on her daughter. "What are you doing?" she hissed, her polite attitude dropping now that the nobleman had left the room._

"_Why, Mother, whatever are you speaking of?" she asked, wide-eyed and deceptively innocent. "I've been perfectly polite so far."_

_The fight went out of her mother's body as quickly as it entered it. "Anya…" Josephine stepped forward, brushing her daughter's raven hair out of her face and re-pinning a stray curl. Anya couldn't remember the last time her mother had been so affectionate. Of course, it was her fault - she had been pushing both of her parents away for the past few years now, ever since she had found out about their marriage - about how Autumn could not possibly be her mother's daughter. Of course, her parents didn't know that she knew, but Anya was more observant than they gave her credit for. In any case, for the moment, Anya let her anger dissipate, and allowed herself to lean into her mother's gentle touch._

"_My dear daughter," Lady Josephine whispered. "You have so much spirit in you, so much fire, so much life. I once had an adventurous heart, just like yours. I was just a few years younger than you are now. I didn't want to marry - I wanted to see the world! I imagined traveling to all of the Five Great Kingdoms and beyond."_

_This was not a story Anya had ever heard. She watched her mother with wide eyes. "Did you?"_

"_No. Someone who was much wiser than I told me that my headstrong desires wouldn't last. My wild side would die down, as I aged, and I would want to settle down somewhere, find a husband, have a family. I didn't think so at the time, but I took her advice, because she was wiser than I. And, in the end, she was right."_

_Well, that was disappointing. Anya had been hoping for a story about how her mother had escaped and lived free, traveling from place to place. Of course, that couldn't have been true, since then Lady Josephine wouldn't have married Lord Andrew and Anya herself wouldn't exist._

_Her mother's hands settled onto Anya's shoulders. "Anya, you may think being wild and rebellious is fun now, but it won't last forever. One day, you're going to want to settle down, just like I did, but it won't be until after the best of your youth is gone. You're already twenty years old, Anya! You'll be nothing but a desperate spinster soon, and no one will want you! Do you want to be alone forever?"_

_Anya jerked away from her mother as if scalded. Lady Josephine's eyes widened as she realized what she had said. "No, Anya, I didn't mean-"_

"_Dinner is waiting, Mother," Anya interrupted, her voice as cold as ice. "We don't want to be late."_

_The young lady turned on her heel and strode toward the Great Hall. Her mother followed after quietly._

_However, she spoke again as they neared the doors. "Anya-"_

"_I don't want your apologies! You can't take back what you've said. It's very clear what you think of me," Anya hissed, glaring straight ahead, refusing to even look at her mother._

"_I won't try to apologize, though what I said was wrong," her mother sighed. "But please try to understand how I feel. When we first began to search for suitors for you, you were such a perfect daughter. Though some were put off by your…appearance," she paused when Anya hissed. The young lady hated being reminded of the fact that she looked so much younger than she was._

"_Though some were put off by your appearance," Josephine repeated, "Just as many were drawn in by the fact that, by all accounts, you were a perfect young lady. This 'search for suitors' was hardly a search - they were nearly throwing themselves through the threshold. The combination of your sweet nature - at the time - and the power of Nimbasa had several excellent suitors begging to marry you."_

"_Then, that sweet nature of yours started to change," she sighed. "I don't know why. But your bad manners and temper began to turn suitors away from you. Rumors began to spread. After that third young lord came to visit, no one requested to meet you. So your father and I began to increase your dowry. We worked our way into the good graces of every lord, practically begging them to take you as a bride. Of course, this drew in several greedy boors, interested in little more than Nimbasa's money and power, but a bad marriage is better than none at all."_

"_You should know," Anya hissed. It almost made her glad to see her mother recoil as if struck. "I get it! I'm a burden on the family. No one wants me."_

"_But you are wanted!"_

"_Really? Name one person."_

"_That young man that is sitting in the Great Hall. Lord Damien Wolf."_

_Anya was dumbstruck; at a complete loss for words._

_Before she could find her tongue, her mother had started speaking rapidly, the tone of her voice quivering in excitement. "Don't you see? Ecruteak is has about as much power in Johto as Nimbasa does in Unova, and as much wealth, if not a little more. There's no superficial reason for him to marry you, none at all! The only explanation is that, for some reason, he's taken an interest in you."_

_Lady Josephine wrung her hands before her, looking so remorseful and desperate that Anya almost felt sorry for her. "Listen to me, Anya," she begged. "This could be your last chance for a good marriage! One where you can be happy with a good man, with a castle and a household of your own to run one day. I understand it's hard for you to keep your tongue in check these days, but I'm asking you to keep an open mind. Please…just think about it. You'll be sorry if you haven't settled down by the time you're done with your rebellious stage." With that, Josephine pulled herself together and swept into the Great Hall._

_After taking a deep breath to calm her temper, Anya followed after her, approaching the slight terrace at the back of the room where her family and all noble visitors sat. Of course, her seat had been placed right next to his._

_What her mother had said was food for thought. Why would Damien Wolf be interested in a marriage with her? The rumors of her temper had most likely reached Ecruteak; one of her early suitors had been from Johto and had probably spread it. His family had the same amount of money and political power as hers, so there was no reason there. He was a second son, so perhaps he was trying to gain power. Then again, she was a second child as well, and her elder brother would inherit Nimbasa. There was nothing to gain in that way, either._

_There was no more time to ponder the mystery of Why Damien Wolf Wanted To Marry Anya Riveras. The young lady had reached her seat._

"_Please excuse my tardiness, Lord Wolf," she apologized._

"_Damien," he said. "My father is Lord Wolf."_

"_Lord Damien, then," she agreed as she sat down, forcing herself not to roll her eyes. She was trying to apologize, and he was worried about petty titles!_

"_No. My name is Damien. _Just_ Damien. Would you mind if we dispense with the titles? We both know our social status; there's no need to reaffirm it every time we want to get the other's attention."_

_For a moment, Anya stared at him. Drop all titles? That was a strange request. She had never addressed anyone with a title solely by their first name, nor had she ever been addressed that way. Well, her parents called her Anya, as did her brother, before he began to merely call her "little sister" with a sneer in his voice. Autumn was just beginning to talk, and at her age didn't understand titles, so called her by her given name - or, at least, what Autumn could say of her given name, which usually turned out more like "Nee-ah!". She had called her brother by his given name as well, before she all but stopped talking to him._

_And, of course, there were Lady Josephine and Lord Andrew. Anya didn't think she had ever heard her mother call her father by his first name, nor the other way around. It was always "My lord" and "My lady". In fact, even saying each others' names at all was rare._

_For a moment, Anya considered rejecting him outright. She was not above being rude to him - that was the point, after all. Besides, asking this was like asking her to be as familiar with him as she was with her family, or even more familiar. It was an incredible breach of courtesy._

_Then again, Anya didn't care much for courtesy these days, nor the idle nattering and small talk she was about to be forced to engage in. By asking to do away with the titles, it almost seemed to Anya like they were going to stop beating around the bush and pretending, and simply be honest. In other words, she could discard all niceties and throw out the filter that kept her most insolent comments from ever reaching her lips. In the end, she agreed to call him by his name - just his name - and reluctantly allowed him to do the same._

_It was only the first of many strange things she noticed about him._

_The next thing she noticed was that he didn't drink anything. At all. Literally, everyone else in the Great Hall was downing ale by the keg, or, if they were ladies of gentle birth like Anya, a glass or two of watered down wine. However, he stopped a servant and asked for lemon water instead. Anya didn't think she'd even met anyone who didn't drink. Water was known to cause sickness if not taken from an incredibly pure source, and, while Anya didn't know anything about making alcohol, she knew that the process somehow stopped whatever made people sick. At first, she thought it was some sort of show of trust - albeit a very, very strange one._

_Eventually, she just asked him. Damien only shrugged. "I prefer to keep a clear head at all times," he merely said._

_Even talking to him was bizarre in the extreme, though she didn't figure out why for quite a while. Something about the way he focused on her and only her, like she was the only person in the room…She hated to admit it, but she rather liked his attention, the way his eyes focused on her made her feel like the most desirable woman in the room, the way he listened intently to everything she said made her feel as if she had something significant to say, and it was incredibly important that he hear it…_

_That was it! That was why speaking to him felt so strange! Instead of just talking _at_ her, like everyone else did, Damien was actually talking_ to_ her. Rather than speaking, pausing when she spoke, and then continuing what he was saying, Damien actually _was_ listening and responding to what she said. In fact, occasionally he would pause for several seconds after she spoke, taking a moment to absorb what she said before replying with a well thought out answer, forcing Anya to pause and think as well._

_Even insulting him was even more enjoyable than usual. Most of the time, Anya preferred underhanded remarks, mockery that was hidden underneath praise and sugar-coated words. Men would preen while she insulted everything from their intelligence to their lineage. Or, they would realize they were being insulted and begin to bluster, obstinate in their self-worth, and make even bigger fools out of themselves in the process._

_However, when she threw that first insult, he merely raised an eyebrow…and returned the underhanded comment right back to her. Her jaw nearly dropped open in surprise, though she managed to catch herself just in time. Her initial shock was quickly replaced by mirth, and she had to suppress a smile as she returned his verbal jab. Judging by the way he was smiling slightly as well, she doubted she did a very good job of hiding her emotions._

_After several more underhanded insults, Damien was truly grinning, leaning back in his chair with his right elbow placed on his armrest, holding up his chin which was propped on a fist. "My, Anya, I'm deeply wounded," he sighed in mock hurt. "It's almost as if you don't want to marry me."_

_Anya would have chuckled and retorted, but Damien wasn't done. "In fact, I can't help but feel that you don't want to marry anyone at _all_. You don't seem like the type that's ready to settle down as a complacent, obedient, quiet wife, pop out a few heirs, and retire in a large castle. In fact, I don't think you're the type of person to do what others tell you to do if you don't want to - at least, not without a fight. No, you strike me as a kind of women that needs the kind of attention that's a little…Different. Something that'll let you be a little wild from time to time."_

_Oh, he thought she was going through a rebellious stage, just like her mother did. Why couldn't anyone understand? This had nothing to do with rebellion. If she could just find out what had happened to her brother, find a way to bring the old Jacob back or to punish the new one for what he had did, she would happily marry and help her family. Then again, she never did tell anyone about why her attitude had suddenly changed. She supposed it was easier this way._

_In any case, what in the world was he going on about? Whatever it was, it didn't sound like something her parents would approve of - nor anyone in higher society. She took notice of his posture once more - relaxed, though not quite lazy. His voice had been pleasant and polite, but quiet - though others would surely catch the tone, the words would be lost in the noise of the Great Hall, and others would assume they were having a perfectly normal, civil conversation. He was still wearing that smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes - they suddenly seemed very sharp, aquiline and calculating. Her answer seemed very important to him._

_But how did one respond to a question as strange as that? Anya wasn't sure. Suddenly, she was aware that she actually knew very little about Damien. They hadn't insulted each other all night - they had actually had conversed amiably in between the insults. Though she did manage to wriggle some information about himself out of him - that he had an older brother and a younger sister, that he enjoyed training his pokemon and reading in his family's library, that he had received the scar over his right eye when he had fought off a brigand - on the whole, the man was a mystery. He seemed to enjoy listening to her speak more than talking himself, which was one of the things that had made her realize how different he was from other men. Still, it only expanded the enigma that was Damien Wolf._

_He was still waiting for an answer, and she still wasn't sure how to respond. After a few more moments of thought, she decided to give a careful, half-reply. "I still have many things to accomplish," was all she said._

_He seemed to accept her answer and changed the subject to something lighter and less confusing. Still, as Anya returned to her quarters for the night, thoughts about him and his strange mannerisms plagued her mind._

"_Can't be a complacent wife, can I?" she growled under her breath. "He doesn't know anything about me!" If Jacob hadn't started acting so horribly, she would be married and happy right now! Maybe she would even have a child. And the day she figured out what was wrong with him, or what she should do about him, she would happily marry and the rest of her life would be perfect._

…_Would she? For some reason, the thought of marriage and children didn't make her feel the same mix of dread and excitement that it used to, only a rejection of that reality._

_Shoving away all her misgivings, she allowed herself to imagine what it would be like to marry Damien Wolf. To leave for Ecruteak, to see a region that was all but unknown to her, and, one day in the future, to have his children. She wondered if all their dinner conversations would be as enjoyable as the one earlier tonight._

_As much as she hated to admit it, Anya was not opposed to marrying the young lord - in fact, she rather liked the idea of building a life with him._

_Suddenly, Anya felt a wave of exhaustion. She was tired of this; so, so tired. She was tired of being unkind, tired of resisting, tired of chasing after the shadow of her brother. She didn't want to resist anymore, didn't want to fight. She just wanted to be taken care of._

_If only there was someone there that could do just that. No, the only person Anya could trust to watch over her was herself. Though she liked Damien Wolf, he was too mysterious for her to trust him fully._

_Still, she didn't want to shove him away unnecessarily. He was a nice person, and she enjoyed being around him, which was a lot to say these days. Maybe she didn't have to convince him that he didn't want to marry her with a cruel prank. Maybe she could just _ask_ him to withdraw his suit._

_Feeling much more lighthearted now that she had decided what to do, Anya headed toward the guest rooms._

_Why, oh, why did she have to overhear him talking to that servant?_

_The hushed sound of voices made Anya pause before she turned the corner. She strained her ears to make out the words._

"…_haven't been so fortunate so far. She's been playing awful tricks on them to make them leave. Trying to make them think she's not the type of woman they want for a wife. Be careful."_

_The voice was familiar, though she had no name or face to match to it. Most likely a servant, she dismissed it._

_The voice that responded, however, made the hair on the back of her neck stand up._

"_I think I can deal with a girl's pranks." Damien chuckled, amusement clear in his voice._

_Anya's jaw dropped open. A _girl's_ pranks? Just who did he think he was, speaking of her that way? (He probably thought he was her fiancé, but Anya pushed that thought aside.) Still, she found the comment a little hurtful, when she normally wouldn't have cared what he thought at all. She shoved that thought away too._

_She should step out and explain her dilemma to him, but she found that her feet wouldn't let her move forward. Instead, she stepped to the side, pressing her back against the wall and inching toward the turn in the hallway to hear them better._

"_In any case, does she always act like that? I like her fire, but she's a little…" Damien trailed off. The servant chuckled a little at his momentary ineloquence. "You know what I mean," Damien finished. "What about her moon's blood? I've heard that some women get a bit…testy. Could that be the cause?"_

_Anya's mouth dropped open in shock and all the blood rushed to her face. Who _asked_ something like that?_

_But the servant was already answering. "I don't think that's it. She's always had a lot of spirit, but was, more or less, a perfect young lady up until a few years ago. She had this pet, a Skitty named Patches. The two of them were pretty much inseparable. Unfortunately, he evolved during an attack by Hoenn, and he was given to her brother to protect him when he went to fight them. Patches was killed in the war. When she found out, she…changed."_

"_I didn't know she had a brother. Did I meet him tonight?"_

"_Jacob Riveras? No, he avoids large events such as this. I'm not sure what his excuse is this time."_

_There was a pause before the servant spoke again. "Now that you mention it…There's been a bit of a change in Jacob as well. He's been different ever since he came back from the war with Hoenn. It's not as drastic as with Anya, but still noticeable. He's in the training yard a lot more, which is something he never used to do. He even seems to _enjoy_ fighting. Few in the castle guard will fight him these days, since he's so powerful; almost brutal. Those that do always do so in armor. He's also quite a bit ruder to the servants, but he never gets reprimanded for it because he's still polite to those that matter." The servant practically spat the last part._

"_You think Anya's change in attitude is linked to her brother's?"_

"_I think there are many different factors to consider, but it's a possibility. All I know is that they were practically connected at the hip before, and now she can barely even stand to be in the same room as him."_

"_It's something to consider. Thank you very much for your information. Can you fetch Isabelle? I need to speak with her as well."_

"_I can. Milord, if you don't mind me asking, do you think…?"_

"_I think she'll be perfect. The others will love her."_

"_Thank you, milord. I'll go get her."_

_Realizing she was about to be caught, Anya crept away from the wall as quickly and quietly as she could and slipped into one of the main hallways. Then, she walked mechanically back to her room. She shoved away all thought and emotion, doing her best not to consider what she had heard. It would do no good to have some sort of breakdown in public._

_Only when she shut the door to her private chambers did she allow the jumble of emotions to wash over her._

_The first thing that registered was hurt. A girl's pranks? Did he really think of her only as a girl? Was she no better than an annoying child, a pest to be brushed off? She knew her reasoning was irrational - she had only known him for one night! - but she had hoped that he had thought more highly of her._

_Anya did her best to shove the hurt aside. That emotion would only lead to gloom, and that unhappiness would only lead to lethargy. She needed to focus on something more productive._

_So, naturally, the next emotion that arose in her mind was anger. How _dare_ he! What gave him the right to pry into her personal life without her consent? Nothing, that was what! Even as her betrothed, he should just _ask_ her about her life - not that she'd tell him, but _still.

_And it seemed he had spies within the castle. The servant he had been speaking to and more within the castle._

_And a woman named Isabelle…Isabelle was one of Anya's favorite maidservants. She had only shown up a couple of years ago, but she was only a few years Anya's senior, and the lady enjoyed talking to her despite the difference in their classes. She didn't know everything about her - like how she was going to get revenge on her brother, or what had occurred between them shortly after he had returned from war, or…well, they mostly talked of insignificant things. Still, Isabelle probably had a very good picture of her thought process and personality, as one usually got from idle chat, and if she passed that on to Damien, he was probably intelligent enough to deduce many things about her._

_Suddenly, Anya felt very, very vulnerable. Soon, he would know everything about her by going behind her back, and he would still be a mystery._

_Just who was Damien Wolf?_

_Slowly, the realization dawned on her._

_She had heard of men like him before. Controlling men who had to know _everything_. Men who had strange tastes, who preferred young girls to women. Men who were violent in bed and took women whether they were willing or not, with the use of chains and whips. Even men who had more than one wife._

_The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. Everything he had said over the evening added up to this reality. He had been interested in wedding her, despite her child-like appearance - that was the pedophilia. She checked that off her list. He had commented on "liking her fire". He probably liked it when women fought him, women who resisted his advances. The way he seemed intent on knowing everything about her - extremely controlling. And…What was it he said? "The others will love her"? Probably talking about his other brides. And that strange comment during dinner! The whole part about how she wouldn't fit into a traditional marriage, how she needed something "that would let her be a little wild". She had practically egged him on!_

_Terror was not something Anya was well-acquainted with, living as a noble lady. Now, she felt its icy claws dig into her heart, which hammered in her chest, like a Flying-type pokemon trying to escape from a predator._

_He knew every one of her weaknesses thanks to his research. _Every one.

_Her only option was to chase him out, and fast. Do something so horrible to him that he would want nothing to do to her._

_Thankfully, she had just the prank for that. All she needed to do was figure out the best place to drop the red dye from…_

* * *

Leon's stress headache had exploded into a full-on migraine. He could feel it throb behind his eyes with every beat of his heart. All he wanted to do was find the darkest room in Altair Castle and curl up for the next week.

If only he could.

At first, Anya's story was practically spit in Damien's direction, glaring fiercely. After a few sentences, Knight had stopped her and asked her to calm down. The lady took a deep breath and managed to deliver the rest of the tale in a fairly calm voice. However, her body was still tense, and she continued to glower at Damien. Leon could sense it was only a brave front, since she stiffened every time he moved. Once, he saw her hands tremble, but she clasped them behind her back afterwards. She was an excellent actor, but even Leon could see the girl was _terrified_.

"Anya, Damien was sent to see if we should invite you to join Altair," Knight explained when she had finished. "It's standard procedure. Emile knew that your parents were trying to find you a husband, so we decided that disguising him as a suitor would be a good way to gather information unnoticed, especially since every potential husband has rejected you so far." The white-haired Master flinched and held up his hands defensively when Anya turned her glare towards him. "Sorry. Just stating the facts."

"So...he was asking all those questions because you _told_ him to?"

"Exactly!" Knight looked relieved. It seemed that this problem was solved.

Not so. "That's what you _think_," Anya hissed. "That's what _he_ wants you to think. You weren't there! You wouldn't understand the type of person he is!"

Damien stood. He abandoned the familiar, simple language that was used among the members of Altair and instead fell back into the formal speech of the courts, as Leon knew he was wont to do when nervous or when he was unsure of how to deal with a situation. He started around the table toward Anya. "My lady, I meant no-"

"Don't come any closer to me!" The frustration and rage in Anya's voice turned to fear very quickly. She held her hands out in a protective stance and took several steps back. As if realizing she had dropped her angry facade, she quickly crossed her arms around herself once more, and managed to sound much more irritated when she said, "I don't want anything to do with you."

This was not a problem they could afford to have, but they appeared to have no choice. On top of all that, this solution was going nowhere. The best course of action was to separate them and try again later. Preferably when Leon's skull didn't feel like it was being crushed by a horse.

"Anya," he said gently, "Why don't you go back to your reading group?"

"Don't treat me like a child!" she spat, trying to regain her dignity.

Leon ignored her comment. "Knight and I will take care of things here."

Anya's eyes shifted from Knight to Leon several times before nodding. She turned on her heel and left the room, closing the thick wooden door behind her.

"Well," Knight mused, "That was an interesting encounter."

"Yes," Leon replied dryly, "That would be one way to put it. Damien, when we sent you to spy on other families, the point of the mission was _not_ to scare off our potential recruits!"

Damien held up his hands defensively. "My apologies. I didn't realize she was listening in."

"Well, you _should_ have!"

"But I didn't. Again, I apologize. Perhaps I should stay away from Lady Anya for a while and let her cool off."

"That probably won't help," Knight pointed out. "Even if she doesn't see you at all, she'll still feel mistrustful. We need to foster a completely safe and secure environment here. Everyone needs to feel they can trust everyone else within Altair."

"Then this is what we're going to do," Leon said. "Damien, for the next few weeks, try to befriend Anya. Be nice to her, help her with her training. Make her understand you're not someone to be feared."

"Leon, showing favor to one Trainee over all others isn't professional," Damien remarked. "Besides, I-"

"Enough!" Leon snapped. "I gave you an order. Are you going to _question_ it?"

For a moment, Damien's mouth hung open in shock. "No, sir," he murmured when he recovered.

"Good. I've given you a command. Carry it out. End of discussion." And so Leon stomped out of the room as well.

Leon's room seemed like heaven. It had no windows - none of the rooms in Altair Castle did - but it was dark when he moved the torch burning on the wall out, and his pokemon were waiting for him. As soon as he slouched back on the lounge resting against one of the walls, Evakt, his Pikachu, jumped up onto his chest and curled himself in a ball, knowing just what his master needed to feel better.

...And it was _not_ the insistent knocking that began right as Leon closed his eyes.

"Enter," Leon growled, and in walked Knight, holding that damned torch.

"What was _that_?" the white-haired man asked, throwing his arms out in exasperation.

"What do you mean, what was that?"

"_That_!" It became apparent to Leon that his friend was quite agitated. "Even if you're upset, that was beyond rude."

"I gave an order. He questioned it, and I scolded him. That is all."

"Don't tell me that's _all;_ I can tell you're lying. You've never worried about us questioning orders before. In fact, I even remembering you _encouraging_ us to do it once! You said that one person can't think of everything, so others needed to find what he missed." Slowly, Knight approached the lounge where Leon was resting. Leon backed away from the torch he was holding, the flickering light making his head hurt even worse. "No, I think you're _jealous_."

"_Jealous_?" Leon scoffed, wishing Knight would just leave him in peace. "Of _what_?"

"Damien was leading Altair before you came along," Knight replied, his blue eyes flashing in the wavering light, "And you've always felt that he was a better leader than you. Even when he stepped aside for you - quite joyfully, I might add - you've always been scared that everyone listens to him rather than you."

Then, the man sat down beside him, holding the torch away. Leon sighed in relief. "Leon, you don't have to _worry_ about that," Knight said gently. "Damien doesn't want to be a leader. _At all_. You, however, do, and people will _listen_ to you. They follow your orders not just because they're good decisions, but because the other Masters genuinely like and trust you, and know you won't lead them astray. If anyone else saw what you did in there, that trust would have been shattered."

It was hard to refuse his friend when he spoke so truly, yet so kindly. Leon rested his palms against his eyes. "Sorry," he mumbled. "In case you haven't noticed, today has been a bit stressful. I just...I wanted it to be perfect."

"Perfection is not a place," Knight replied wisely, "It's a direction."

Leon shoved his shoulder gently, playfully. "When did you get so annoyingly clever?"

"I've always been this way," Knight grinned, looking quite pleased with himself. "You've just never cared to notice."

The two shared a chuckle before Leon sobered up. "What should I do?"

"Apologize to Damien, definitely. After a performance like that, he's going to try to win your favor back by following that order." Knight laughed. "He'll try so hard, the poor girl will probably fall in love with him before the year is up!" Again, the two friends shared a laugh.

Finally, Knight stood and made to leave. "You stay here for a while. You probably need to rest."

Leon made to stand as well. "I'm-"

"No, you're not fine," Knight interrupted, one foot already out the door. "Don't worry. The other Masters and I can take care of training for the rest of the day. I'll fetch you when it's time for supper."

Knight closed the door behind him, leaving Leon alone in blissful darkness.

* * *

**A/N:** I think I've finally discovered why I'm taking so long to write these days. One...well, I'm busy.

Two...These chapters have gotten a _lot_ longer. When I was doing the introduction chapters, they were much shorter. The longest was Anya's, which I think was eleven word pages. These are more like fifteen or sixteen. In fact, this one would have been even longer, since I planned to include three more POVs (Dagan, Anya again, and Roselle), but I decided to split it in half because it was taking me forever. I have to ask, though...do you guys like longer chapters or faster updates better? Because I might just start splitting up the chapters into one or two POVs instead of all four, which would make updates faster.

Three...This is _boring_. And I know you're all going to disagree with me immediately, but hear me out. See, it feels like the plotline - the _real_ plotline - has been pushed aside in favor of training chapters and sub-plots. And I can't skip over the training chapters or sub-plots because if I do, the actual plot won't make any sense! This is also the reason why I've been coming up with so many other stories lately - trying to keep me distracted. (The newest one is another Pokemon SYOC - a female-dominated dystopian AU. I think I might actually write that one, but I want Gen. VI to be involved, so that's not until October at the earliest. By the who, who loves Fennekin?) So we're stuck with boring stuff. I'm trying to keep myself interested by having one thing a chapter that I'm really looking forward to writing - in this one, it's Anya's history with Damien. In the next, it's the stuff that happens in Roselle's POV. Anyways.

Still waiting on questions/dares for the interlude...I haven't gotten a single one yet. Remember, that'll be at one hundred reviews!

So. Apparently Anya was attracted to Damien...before she got it in her head that he's some sort of sexual predator/weird fetish guy. Um...Yeah. She was also called childish and unreasonable multiple times in this chapter by multiple different people, which she's not happy about. Well, maybe she wouldn't be called childish and unreasonable if she DIDN'T ACT CHILDISH AND UNREASONABLE.

And lots of Knight and Leon bromantic stuff. Hooray!

Your reviews inspire me to write, and every critique makes me better.

~Ami


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